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/I}  175' 


BOOKS    BY 

"  Charles  e^ert  QDtaUtatu" 

(MARY  N.  MURFREE.) 


IN  THE  TENNESSEE  MOUNTAINS.  Short 
Stories.  i6mo,  $1.25. 

DOWN  THE  RAVINE.  For  Young  People.  Illus 
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WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  A 
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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY, 

BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS 
FOUGHT 


A  NOVEL 


BY 


CHARLES  EGBERT  CRADDOCK 

AUTHOR  OF  "IN  THE  TENNESSEE  MOUNTAINS" 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 


1895 


Copyright,  1884, 
BY  JAMES  R.  OSGOOD  AND  COMPANY, 


All  Rights  Reserved. 


WHEEE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

IT  is  said  that  a  certain  old  battlefield  in  Tennessee  ia 
haunted  in  these  peaceful  times.  Often  there  comes 
out  of  the  dark  silence  the  sudden  wild  blare  of  the  bugle, 
chilling  the  blood  of  distant  fireside  groups.  Then  the 
earth  throbs  with  the  roll  of  drums  and  the  measured 
tread  of  martial  hosts.  A  mysterious  clangor,  as  of  the 
clash  of  arms,  fills  the  air.  A  flash  —  it  is  the  glinting  of 
bayonets  above  the  grim  earthworks  which  still  loom  up 
against  the  vague  horizon. 

And  yet  there  are  those  who  can  hear,  in  the  military 
music  and  the  tumultuous  voices  of  victory  and  defeat, 
only  the  rush  of  the  wind  across  the  vast  historic  plain ; 
who  can  see,  in  the  gleaming  phantoms  that  hold  the  works, 
only  the  mist  and  the  moon ;  who  can  feel,  in  the  tremor 
of  the  earth  beneath  a  charging  column,  only  the  near 
approach  of  the  railway  train  thundering  through  the 
cavernous  limestone  country. 

By  wintry  daylight  the  battlefield  is  still  more  ghastly. 
Gray  with  the  pallid  crab-grass,  which  so  eagerly  usurps 
the  place  of  last  summer's  crops,  it  stretches  out  on  every 
side  to  meet  the  bending  sky.  The  armies  that  success 
ively  encamped  upon  it  did  not  leave  a  tree  for  miles,  but 
here  and  there  thickets  have  sprung  up  since  the  war,  and 


A \ OO 4 1 


'2  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

bare  and  black  they  intensify  the  gloom  of  the  landscape. 
The  turf  in  these  segregated  spots  is  never  turned.  Be 
neath  the  branches  are  rows  of  empty,  yawning  graves 
where  the  bodies  of  soldiers  were  temporarily  buried.. 
Here,  most  often,  their  spirits  walk,  and  no  hire  can 
induce  the  hardiest  ploughman  to  break  the  ground. 
Thus  the  owner  of  the  land  is  fain  to  concede  these  acres 
to  his  ghostly  tenants,  who  pay  no  rent. 

A  great  brick  house,  dismantled  and  desolate,  rises 
starkly  above  the  dismantled  desolation  of  the  plain. 
Despite  the  tragic  aspect  of  this  building,  it  offers  a  cer 
tain  grotesque  suggestion  —  it  might  seem  in  the  mad 
ostentation  of  its  proportions  a  vast  caricature  of  suc 
cumbed  prosperities.  There  is  no  embowering  shrubbery 
about  it,  no  inclosing  fence.  It  is  an  integrant  part  of  the 
surrounding  ruin.  Its  cupola  was  riddled  by  a  cannonade, 
and  the  remnants  shake  ominously  with  every  gust  of 
wind ;  there  are  black  fissures  in  the  stone  steps  and 
pavements,  where  shells  exploded ;  many  of  the  windows 
are  shattered  and  boarded  up.  In  others,  however,  the 
glass  is  intact,  and  through  those  nearest  at  hand  John 
••**  Estwicke,  standing  for  the  first  time  on  the  long,  broad 
portico  one  afternoon  in  1871,  caught  the  genial  flicker 
of  fire-light  and  the  glow  of  crimson  curtains.  The  whole 
place  was  grimly  incongruous  with  the  idea  of  a  home,  and 
as  he  was  ushered  into  a  wide,  bare  hall,  with  glimpses 
of  uninhabited,  unfurnished  rooms  on  either  hand,  there 
was  intimated  something  of  those  more  potent  terrors 
witn  which  it  was  instinct  —  the  pursuing  influences  of 
certain  grisly  deeds  of  trust,  for  the  battlefield,  the  grew- 
some  thickets,  the  house  itself,  all  were  mortgaged.  The 
next  moment  he  was  in  an  atmosphere  of  goodly  domestic 
cheerfulness,  heightened  by  coloring  so  vivid  and  warm 
that  it  seemed  to  pulsate.  A  flaring,  be-flowered,  velvet 


WHEBE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  3 

carpet  cohered  the  floor  of  a  large,  square  room;  the 
crimson  contains  were  long  and  expansive ;  the  clumsy, 
old-fashioned,  brass  fender  and  andirons  glittered  with 
the  reflection  of  the  blazing  logs;  now  and  then  a  red 
gleam  was  evoked  from  the  time-darkened  mahogany 
chairs,  upholstered  with  thread-bare  black  hair-cloth  which 
showed  here  and  there  the  canvas  beneath,  for  all  the 
furniture  was  well  worn,  being  scanty  relics  of  ante-bel 
lum  days,  saved  by  some  miracle  in  the  general  destruc 
tion  of  the  great  battle.  He  caught  a  bizarre  glimpse  of 
himself  in  a  huge  fractured  mirror  with  a  showy,  gilded 
frame,  which  hung  above  the  mantel-piece,  and  of  his  host 
rising  suddenly  and  turning  to  meet  him. 

"  JVIy  dear  sir,"  exclaimed  General  Vayne,  with  a  cer 
tain  rotund  emphasis,  "  I  am  happy  to  see  you ! " 

As  he  crossed  the  room  and  offered  his  hand  to  his 
guest  —  his  left  hand,  for  his  right  sleeve  was  empty  — 
there  was  something  in  his  manner  which,  despite  the 
impressiveness  of  his  fine  proportions,  his  soldierly  gait, 
his  kindling  enthusiastic  eyes,  and  the  grave  earnestness  of 
his  florid  face,  savored  strongly  of  the  ludicrous.  He  bore 
himself  with  a  noble  dignity  which  might  well  have  be 
fitted  Julius  CaBsar,  but  which  consorted  absurdly  enough 
with  the  uncouthness  of  the  bare  ruin  where  he  lived; 
with  his  hunted  condition,  never  out  of  sound  of  the  hue 
and  cry  of  his  debts;  with  the  well-worn  seams  of  his 
coat  —  a  suggestive  contrast  to  his  perfect  and  immacu 
late  linen,  that  in  making  the  most  of  its  virtues  only 
offered  another  annotation  upon  the  history  of  his  struggle 
between  gentility  and  poverty.  There  was  evident  cor 
diality  in  his  welcome,  but  it  was  accorded  pre-eminently 
in  his  official  character  as  host.  After  this  the  murmured 
civility  with  which  the  introduction  of  Estwicke  was 
acknowledged  by  the  General's  slender  young  daughter, 


4  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS    FOCJGHT. 

and  the  beaming  amiability  of  an  old  lady,  his  sister,  who 
sat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fireplace,  seemed  a  trifle 
irresponsible. 

"  My  brother  has  told  me,"  said  Mrs.  Kirby,  her  short 
gray-streaked  curls  waving  with  an  animation  that  threat 
ened  to  dislodge  the  little  old-fashioned  side-combs  which 
held  them  from  her  plump,  benignant,  wrinkled  face, 
•*  that  you  are  a  relative,  a  third  cousin,  of  our  good  friend 
the  Reverend  Edward  Estwicke  —  regret  to  hear  of  his 
neuralgia  —  so  sad !  " 

"  An  admirable  man,"  said  General  Vayne.  He  fixed 
his  dark  earnest  eyes  upon  the  fire,  and  with  his  adroit 
left  hand,  he  reflectively  stroked  his  long,  gray  mustache. 

"I  have  never  known,  sir,"  he  continued,  weightily, 
"  an  intellect  more  powerful,  acute,  and  analytic  than  that 
of  that  learned  and  eloquent  divine." 

The  relative  of  the  "  learned  divine  "  looked  at  his  host 
with  a  momentary  touch  of  surprise,  for  he  knew  his 
cousin  only  as  a  dull  and  droning  old  preacher  in  an 
obscure  little  town  in  West  Virginia.  He  had  not  the 
advantage  of  General  Yayne's  moral  magnifying-glass. 
Through  this  unique  lens  life  loomed  up  as  rather  a  large 
affair.  In  the  rickety  court-house  in  the  village  of  Chat- 
talla,  five  miles  out  there  to  the  south,  General  Yayne 
beheld  a  temple  of  justice.  He  translated  an  office-holder 
as  the  sworn  servant  of  the  people.  The  State  was  this 
great  commonwealth,  and  its  seal  a  proud  escutcheon. 
A  tall  in  cotton  struck  him  as  a  blow  to  the  commerce 
of  the  world.  From  an  adverse  political  fortune  he 
augured  the  swift  ruin  of  the  country.  Abstract  ideas 
were  to  him  as  potent  elements  in  human  affairs  as  acts 
of  the  Legislature,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  general  col« 
.  apse,  his  large  ideals  still  retained  their  pristine  propor 
tions. 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  5 

"I  am  afraid  you  have  had  a  cold  drive,"  said  Mrs. 
Kirby,  beaming  on  the  visitor.  "  Our  climate  has  changed 
since  the  war.  It  is  much  more  severe." 

"  The  loss  of  the  trees,  perhaps,"  suggested  the  stranger. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  old  lady,  with  her  gurgling  laughter, 
"  there  may  be  something  in  the  superstition  that  the 
Yankees  forgot  their  weather  and  left  it  behind  them. 
And  now  the  malaria  has  gone  —  I  wonder  where !  Prob 
ably  we  have  to  thank  the  Federal  army  and  their  cold 
weather  for  that  also." 

General  Vayne  lifted  his  eyes.  "  I  thank  the  Federal 
army  for  —  nothing,"  declared  the  unreconstructed,  bit 
terly. 

There  was  an  unaccountable  astonishment,  —  more  — 
constraint  in  the  visitor's  face.  He  remained  stiffly  silent, 
and  one  sufficiently  observant  might  have  caught  in  his 
manner  an  intimation  that  he  held  himself  on  the  defen 
sive. 

Miss  Vayne  was  not  sufficiently  observant.  She  laughed 
out  suddenly  with  girlish  effusion,  and  as  she  changed  her 
position,  the  light  was  full  upon  her  delicately  fair  com 
plexion,  her  rich  brown  hair,  and  her  shabby  black  silk 
dress.  She  turned  her  joyous  eyes  upon  the  pallid  heart 
break  of  that  blighted  plain.  "To  make  light  of  your 
obligations,  papa,"  she  cried,  "  does  n't  make  away  with 
them." 

The  gesture  sharpened  the  frivolous  satire,  but  the 
stranger's  attention  had  not  detached  itself  from  General 
Vayne,  at  whom  he  was  looking  with  a  fiery  red  spark  in 
his  challenging  brown  eyes.  This  was  more  in  accord 
with  an  alert  aggressiveness  habitually  expressed  in  his 
face  than  with  his  suave  reserved  manner  and  his  smooth 
and  punctilious  observance  of  the  behests  of  polite  society. 
His  polish  was  like  that  of  steel  —  its  pleasing  lustre  does 


6  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

not  deceive  as  to  the  stern  possibilities  of  the  weapon  01 
the  temper  of  the  blade.  He  had  a  firmly  moulded  chin, 
a  short  upper  lip,  and  excellent  teeth.  There  was  a  dash 
of  red  in  his  close-clipped  brown  hair,  and  his  whiskers 
and  mustache  were  of  a  lighter  tinge.  His  hands  were 
smooth  and  white,  but  his  face  was  darkened  and  rough 
ened  by  sun  and  wind.  He  looked  about  thirty  years  of 
age ;  he  was  tall  and  heavily  built,  and,  like  all  the  men 
of  this  region,  a  military  training  was  very  marked  in  his 
bearing,  despite  his  civilian  dress. 

"Ah  well,"  said  General  Yayne,  waving  the  war,  the 
Federal  army,  and  the  nation  generally  into  a  diminishing 
distance  with  his  expressive  left  hand,  "  I  have  —  a  — 
dismissed  them  —  from  consideration.  Let  them  go ! 
Let  them  go!  Nowadays  I  am  no  wrangler.  I  leave 
all  questions  of  public  policy  as  a  bone  of  contention  for 
the  Political  Dogs  to  gnaw." 

His  method  of  enunciation  might  suggest  to  the  literary 
mind  the  profuse  use  of  capital  letters. 

"I  am,  and  have  always  been,  strictly  tolerant,"  con 
tinued  General  Yayne,  —  "  conservative  in  my  views. 
Conservatism,  sir,"  declared  the  tolerant  man,  with  an 
extreme  look  in  his  eye,  "is  the  moral  centripetal  force 
that  curbs  the  flighty  world." 

Mrs.  Kirby's  interest  in  politics  had  diminished  since 
the  war,  during  which  it  had  a  phenomenal  growth  like 
Jonah's  gourd.  Now  an  absorption  in  personal  matters 
flourished  in  its  stead. 

"  I  hope  you  find  your  stay  in  the  neighborhood  pleas 
ant,  Captain  Estwicke  —  so  glad,"  she  said.  "  Of  course 
you  've  been  to  Chattalla.  Charming,  charming  town ! 
I  am  a  visitor  here  myself.  I  have  n't  before  seen  my 
brother  since  the  eve  of  Shiloh  —  yes,  since  Shiloh.  I 
shall  remain  some  months  with  him  —  so  delightful  to 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  7 

come  back!  And  is  it  business  or  pleasure  that  brings 
you  to  Tennessee  ?  " 

This  old  lady  possessed  an  unbridled  imagination.  She 
fancied  it  possible  that  people  came  to  Tennessee  for 
pleasure. 

Once  more  there  was  that  peculiar  look  of  surprise  and 
constraint  upon  Estwicke's  face.  He  hesitated  in  doubt 
and  embarrassment.  It  did  not  escape  her  attention  thia 
time,  but  she  misinterpreted  it  as  a  look  of  inquiry,  so  she 
smilingly  reiterated  with  great  distinctness,  "Did  you 
come  to  Tennessee  for  business  or  pleasure  f  " 

"I  came  to  join  my  regiment,"  he  replied,  tersely  — 
evasively  it  may  be  considered. 

This  information  exploded  like  a  bomb,  leaving  a  sul 
phurous  silence  behind  it. 

"  Ah-h-h ! "  exclaimed  General  Vayne,  in  a  tone  in 
tended  to  express  assent,  but  which  was  like  a  prolonged 
note  of  surprised  comprehension.  He  appreciated  all  at 
once  how  it  was  that  he  had  mistaken  this  man  for  an 
ex-rebel  captain.  His  letter  of  introduction  from  the 
Reverend  Edward  Estwicke  had  described  him  broadly  as 
"  Captain  Estwicke  of  Virginia,"  and  when  General  Vayne 
had  called  upon  him  at  the  house  of  a  mutual  friend  near 
Chattalla,  where  the  officer  was  spending  the  last  few  days 
of  his  leave,  no  allusion  as  it  chanced  was  made  to  the 
stubborn  fact  of  his  regiment,  stationed  at  the  city  of 
Marston  twenty  miles  away.  He  had  subtly  impressed 
General  Vayne  as  a  man  of  an  inordinate  personal  pride  and 
an  extreme  sensitiveness.  To  such  a  man  the  perception 
that  he  has  accepted  an  invitation  extended  under  a  mis 
take  can  hardly  be  pleasant.  General  Vayne,  versed  in 
fine  issues  of  internal  dissension,  realized  how  the  annoy 
ance  must  be  aggravated  by  the  stranger's  consciousness 
that  he  was  secretly  regarded  as  a  renegade,  for  he  could 


8  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

but  know  how  slightly  his  host  w  ould  esteem  the  replica, 
tion  that  he  was  a  representative  of  the  loyal  South  which 
had  borne  martyrdom  between  two  fires. 

General  Vayne,  however,  held  hospitality  as  the  first 
element  of  religion,  and  it  was  abhorrent  to  him  that  a 
guest  should  by  any  mischievous  mischance  be  rendered 
uncomfortable  in  his  house.  But  he  was  not  helplessly 
dismayed ;  he  thought  himself  possessed  of  tact  equal  to 
any  emergency,  and  he  demonstrated  this  claim  by  bolting 
incontinently  from  the  subject.  The  old  lady  beamed 
upon  the  equivocal  captain  with  smiling  eagerness  to  make 
amends.  The  girl's  face  was  grave,  but  in  her  luminous 
eyes  lurked  a  freakish  delight  in  the  whole  misapprehen 
sion.  Captain  Estwicke  was  not  in  the  habit  of  being 
considered  amusing,  but  if  he  inwardly  resented  it  he 
made  no  sign. 

General  Vayne  had  returned  to  the  loss  of  the  timber. 
"  The  aspect  of  the  country  would  be  almost  prairie-like 
but  for  that  elevation  and  those  frowning  redoubts,"  he 
said,  waving  his  hand  toward  the  western  windows  through 
which  the  huge  earthworks  were  visible.  "There  are 
very  peculiar  scenic  effects  here  now  and  then  —  very 
peculiar,  sir,  indeed.  A  horseman  there  near  Fort  De 
spair,  will  loom  up  gigartic"  —  lowering  his  voice  impres 
sively  —  "  mysterious,  wonderful.  He  seems  a  bit  of 
materialized  poetry.  He  looks  far  more  like  a  gallant 
knight  pricking  across  the  plain  in  quest  of  noble  adven 
ture,  than  "  —  effective  diminuendo  —  "a  ploughman  going 
out  to  bed  up  land  for  cotton." 

"Is  that  the  work  we  used  to  call  Fort  Despair?" 
exclaimed  Estwicke,  as  if  with  sudden  recognition.  Some, 
thing  strained  and  unnatural  in  his  voice  struck  the  girl's 
attention.  She  noted  too  the  look  in  his  eyes  —  at  once 
eager  and  shrinking  —  as  he  leaned  his  elbow  upon  the 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  9 

\vorn  arm  of  the  chair  and  bent  forward  to  the  window. 
Little  as  she  knew  of  him  she  knew  it  was  an  uncharac 
teristic  look.  She  did  not  understand  it.  She  only 
apprehended  the  emotion  that  swayed  him  as  one  groping 
in  the  dark  is  conscious  of  the  proximity  of  an  unaccus 
tomed,  it  may  be  a  fearful  presence. 

"  Fort  Despair,"  repeated  General  Yayne,  absorbed  in 
reminiscence  —  he  had  lost  his  right  arm  there.  "Ap 
propriately  named,  too,  it  seems,  even  at  this  late  day." 

"  Ah,  I  know  !  "  cried  the  stranger  passionately.  "  I 
feel  its  meaning !  Every  weed  that  stirs  in  the  wind  is 
voiced  with  a  terrible  suggestion." 

Then  he  seemed  to  check  himself.  He  leaned  back  in 
his  chair  and  said  no  more.  He  was  panting  slightly ;  his 
face  was  flushed ;  a  sharp  pain  was  expressed  in  his  eyes. 

"  The  man,"  thought  Marcia,  watching  him  in  a  tumult 
of  feeling,  half  sympathy,  half  inquisitive  amaze,  "  has  a 
morbid  horror  of  that  battlefield.  And  a  reason  for  it ! " 

General  Vayne  was  fighting  the  day  over  again.  He 
saw  his  brigade  in  line  of  battle ;  he  was  canvassing  once 
more  the  problematic  strength  of  the  opposing  force ;  he 
was  regretting  again,  as  he  had  often  regretted,  that  he 
had  not  disregarded  his  orders  and  pushed  on  through 
the  timber ;  if  his  arm  had  been  spared  him  one  half  hour 
longer!  How  could  he  notice  the  stranger  now;  he  had 
no  thought  even  of  his  guest ! 

And  Mrs.  Kirby  was  thoroughly  tired  of  the  war,  and 
welcomed  the  opening  of  the  door  and  the  entrance  of 
other  visitors,  a  few  middle-aged  people  of  a  decorously 
dull  aspect,  and,  like  their  entertainers,  so  provincial  that 
they  were  not  even  aware  of  it.  This  deplorable  state  of 
ignorance  has,  however,  its  compensations.  With  full 
faith  they  indorsed  the  old-fashioned  customs  that  had 
always  prevailed  among  them,  and  were  free  from  that 


10  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

subtle  self-distrust  which  hampers  many  very  worthy  peo 
pie,  who  pay  this  price  for  the  knowledge  that  they  do  not 
know  everything. 

In  the  general  change  of  position  Estwicke  found  him 
self  beside  the  young  lady,  and  nearer  the  window  than 
before.  Through  it  he  could  see  the  sinking  sun,  a  great 
red  globe,  resting  a  moment  on  the  parapet  of  Fort  De 
spair.  Far  away  a  vertical  line  of  light  was  drawn 
sharply  upon  the  sad  purple  of  the  distant  hills.  The 
tapering  shaft  pierced  the  pale  saffron  belt  above  the  hori 
zon,  and  at  its  summit  was  a  bright  flake  of  crimson.  It 
was  the  flag-staff,  and  the  flying  flag  above  the  National 
Cemetery  across  the  river.  Certainly  this  was  a  grew- 
some  place. 

And  now  the  sun  was  gone.  The  shadows  thronged 
the  battlefield.  The  haunted  thickets  were  all  a-shiver, 
and  the  viewless  wind  marched  over  the  plain.  The 
cheerful  room  seemed  a  flout,  a  derisive  mockery,  to  the 
woful  scene  without. 

"  How  we  forget ! "  he  thought.     "  How  we  forget !  " 

For  the  interior  was  very  cheerful ;  the  flames  roared 
up  the  chimney ;  the  shattered  mirror  reflected  the  home 
like  group,  seated  in  a  wide  semicircle  before  the  fire ;  the 
flush  of  the  western  sky  was  still  bright  on  the  girl's  fair 
face,  and  there  were  golden  glintings  in  her  brown  hair, 
as  if  belated  sunbeams  were  entangled  in  its  midst.  A 
smile  hovered  about  the  curves  of  her  delicate  lips ;  her 
brilliant  hazel  eyes  looked  out  from  the  tender  shadows  of 
long  black  lashes  ;  even  the  genteel  poverty  expressed  in 
her  attire  had  its  gracious,  poetic  aspects ;  her  standing 
linen  collar,  turning  slightly  outward  at  the  edges,  might 
Bcem  the  calyx  of  some  lovely  flower  as  her  white  neck 
rose  from  it,  and  the  plainness  of  her  shabby  black  silk 
dress,  of  which  the  only  ornament  was  a  knot  of  black 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  11 

lace  at  the  throat,  accented  all  the  pliant  graces  of  hei 
figure. 

He  could  not  understand  the  tranquil  joyousness  of  her 
expression.  She  was  to  him  the  most  striking  anomaly 
of  the  anomalous  place  —  so  manifestly  happy,  so  domi- 
nantly  contradicting  its  persistently  reiterated  doom  of 
death  and  decay;  so  evidently  untouched  by  any  influence 
of  the  high  tragedy  of  these  surroundings.  Clearly  she 
must  lack  feeling,  sensibility.  He  looked  speculatively  at 
her,  as  he  sat  leaning  his  elbow  on  the  stiff,  angular  arm 
of  the  chair,  and  with  his  right  hand  laid  meditatively 
upon  his  dark  red  whiskers.  Presently  he  recognized  the 
appropriateness  of  beginning  a  conversation,  and  said,  at 
a  venture,  — 

"  You  have  no  near  neighbors  here  ?  " 

"No,"  she  replied,  "we  have  all  the  world  to  ourselves. 
Do  you  see  that  black  line  ?  "  she  added,  turning  her  eyes 
toward  the  horizon,  where  the  sombre  hills,  miles  away, 
met  the  darkening  sky,  "that  is  the  boundary  of  the 
world.  You  may  think  there's  something  on  the  other 
side,  because  you  don't  know  the  country;  but  there 
isn't." 

For  a  moment  he  was  silent.  Then  he  laughed  a 
little. 

"I  had  no  idea  that  I  was  to  meet  a  distinguished 
astronomer,  with  a  new  planet,"  he  said.  "It  has  an 
orbit  of  its  own,  of  course,  and  is  governed  by  its  own 
laws." 

"  That's  the  way  with  everybody,"  she  declared.  "  Peo 
ple  are  always  talking  about  c  the  world,'  and  they  only 
mean  the  few  other  people  and  the  few  places  that  they 
know." 

"  I  perceive,"  said  Estwicke,  gravely,  "  that  you  are  a 
closo  reasoner.  The  capacity  for  inductive  ratiocination, 


12  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

Miss  Vayne,  is  the  noblest  faculty  of  the  human  mind 
Let  me  congratulate  you  on  its  possession.  Will  you  rea 
son  some  more ! " 

He  had  been  a  trifle  in  doubt  as  to  how  she  might 
receive  this  pleasantry  at  her  expense,  but  she  laughed 
gleefully. 

"  Oh,  I  will  reason  with  pleasure  if  you  will  suggest  a 
topic." 

"  You  seem  pretty  expert,"  said  Estwicke.  "  Do  you 
spend  much  time  at  it  ?  " 

"At  what?" 

"  At  reasoning." 

"  Oh  no,"  she  cried ;  "  I  have  n't  the  leisure  for  such  an 
elegant  recreation." 

Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  in  delighted  antici 
pation  of  what  he  would  say  next.  It  occurred  to  him 
that  it  was  not  often  she  had  an  experience  like  this;  that 
her  world  did  not  abound  with  people  who  "  amused  " 
her. 

"I  should  think  you  might  indulge  occasionally,"  he 
said.  "When,  for  instance,  your  father  is  away,  and 
your  brothers "  —  he  glanced  across  the  room  at  a  row 
of  small  boys,  stiff  in  their  best  clothes  and  their  com 
pany  manners  —  "  are  at  school,  and  you  have  your  little 
planet  all  to  yourself,  you  might  find  tune  to  reason  con 
siderably." 

"Oh,  but  they  don't  go  to  school;  I  teach  them  at 
home,  and  there's  no  reasoning  with  them  —  nor  with 
housekeeping  either." 

He  knew  that  General  Vayne  had  been  for  some  years 
a  widower,  and  he  understood  now  that  she  presided  over 
the  household.  This  must  involve  heavy  cares.  She  was 
very  elastic.  The  Juggernaut  car  evidently  made  no  im< 
pression. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  13 

Already  he  could  divine  that  the  boys  were  taught  at 
home  to  avoid  the  expense  of  the  academy  and  in  defer 
ence  to  their  father's  prejudice  against  the  free  school, 
and  that  the  whole  system  of  domestic  education  was 
designated  in  General  Vayne's  magniloquent  nomencla 
ture  "Retrenchment." 

"  Teach  me  to  reason,"  said  Estwicke.  "  I  assure  you 
I  am  amenable." 

"You  have  a  dignified  idea  of  my  curriculum.  I 
should  n't  try  to  teach  you  to  reason,"  she  cried  delight 
edly.  "If  you  were  my  pupil  you  would  find  yourself 
laboring  to  distinguish  between  the  first  principles  of 
geography  —  North  and  South." 

His  face  hardened,  but  he  laughed  and  made  a  feint  of 
throwing  up  both  hands.  "  I  surrender !  "  he  exclaimed. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  sudden  grave  intentness. 
However,  she  said  nothing,  for  the  others  were  rising  to 
repair  to  the  dining-room.  There  the  conversation  was 
general,  until,  after  a  time,  a  rubicund,  apoplectic,  eager, 
unwieldly  old  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Ridgevvay  began 
to  preponderate,  while  the  heavy  faces  of  his  auditors  bore 
witness  to  the  weight  of  his  discourse.  He  talked  of 
different  processes  of  agriculture;  of  new  labor-saving 
machines;  most  discerningly  of  the  quality  of  land,  and 
it  was  only  when  he  began  to  take  a  morbid  pleasure  in 
humiliating  himself  and  his  hearers  by  comparing  Ten 
nessee  soil  to  the  alluvial  richness  of  the  buckshot  cotton 
lands  of  Mississippi  that  General  Vayne  came  swiftly, 
potently  to  the  rescue.  Then  it  became  apparent  to  any 
one  not  sodden  in  idiocy  that  God  created  first  Tennessee, 
and  with  what  was  left  over  made  the  rest  of  the  world. 
Nothing  could  live  in  such  rhetoric.  From  Reelfoot  Lake 
to  the  highest  peak  of  Big  Smoky  Mountain  General 
Vayne  demonstrated  his  proposition.  Its  vast  mineral 


14  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

weal; -A  might  enrich  all  the  nations  of  the  earth.  Its 
water-power  could  run  the  machinery  of  —  of  the  uni 
verse.  On  its  mountain  domes  may  be  found  the  flora 
of  the  Canadas ;  its  western  swamps  are  rich  with  sub 
tropical  vegetation ;  between  these  extremes  is  every 
variety  of  soil  and  every  grade  of  climate.  He  descanted 
on  its  geological  interest,  folded  his  napkin  into  strata  and 
illustrated  triumphantly.  So  at  last  the  transition  was  very 
pretty  to  spirited  sketches  of  angling  in  the  waters  of  that 
mystic  western  lake  presented  by  the  earthquake  to  the 
State ;  of  fox-chases  through  the  park-like  mid-land  coun 
try  ;  of  hunting  deer  in  the  romantic  coves  and  ravines  of 
the  Cumberland  Mountains ;  of  the  wilder  solitudes  among 
the  majestic  domes  and  ridges  of  the  great  Unaka  chain 
that  bars  off  the  world  from  our  eastern  borders.  And  as 
he  talked  it  might  have  seemed  that  with  his  admiration 
of  physical  prowess  and  the  loss  of  his  right  arm;  with 
his  magniloquent  ideas  and  phrasings  and  the  scantiness 
of  all  his  belongings ;  with  his  young  family  growing  up 
around  him  and  only  privation  in  the  present  and  this 
mortgaged  ruin  to  leave  them  as  an  estate,  he  was  a 
marvellously  apt  illustration  of  the  ignoble  fact,  failure,  — 
a  fact  of  which  he  was  most  profoundly,  most  pathetically 
unconscious. 

The  whole  affair  was  a  forced  march  to  Estwicke ;  his 
interest  lagged;  the  perception  of  the  mistake  under 
which  he  had  been  invited  rankled  within  him  through 
out  the  evening,  and  even  when  he  had  taken  his  depar 
ture  and  was  driving  away  under  the  frostily  glinting 
stars. 

And  so  the  entertainment  —  a  rare  occasion  for  Marcia — 
was  over.  To-morrow  would  come  again  the  dull  routine 
of  teaching  and  housekeeping  —  this  last  a  matter  of 
problems,  of  careful  ingenuity,  of  reconciling  large  neces- 


WHBKB  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  15 

Bities  and  small  means.  But  she  was  not  thinking  of 
that.  She  was  ready  for  tears,  for  self-reproach,  for  that 
utter  despair  of  youth,  which,  with  the  infinite  lengths  of 
the  future  before  it,  deems  everything  irrevocable.  He 
was  sensitive,  she  said  to  herself,  and  she  had  hurt  him. 
She  had  let  him  go  without  a  word,  because  she  feared  to 
speak.  He  seemed  on  the  lookout  for  slights  —  but  that 
perhaps  was  because  he  had  found  slights  on  the  lookout 
for  him.  And  he  had  had  in  his  life  some  ungentle  —  it 
might  even  be  some  terrible  experience ;  she  had  divined 
that  early  in  the  evening.  And  she,  too,  must  wound 
him !  She  was  so  sorry  —  she  was  so  sorry ! 

Her  father's  voice  broke  upon  her  absorption.  "  I  can 
respect  —  I  can  even  admire,"  he  said,  addressing  the 
family  circle,  "  a  real  bona  fide  Yankee.  Born  so  "  —he 
added,  liberally.  "  But  these  home-made  Yankees  —  these 
Southern  Yankees  —  for  my  life,  for  my  life  I  can't  un 
derstand  them." 

It  seemed  to  General  Yayne  a  monstrous  freak  of 
nature  that  a  man  should  be  born  south  of  Mason's  and 
Dixon's  line  without  a  full  set  of  indigenous  principles 
warranted  to  stick. 

His  daughter  turned  her  head  suddenly.  For  thej 
were  not  gone.  Old  Mr.  Ridgeway  was  re-entering  the 
room,  stumbling  over  a  foot-stool  and  spluttering  and 
gasping  in  his  apoplectic  agitation.  "  I  have  —  yes,  I 
hiive  " — he  exclaimed.  "I  have  broken  the  wheel  of 
my  buggy." 

By  degrees,  in  the  tumult  of  his  explanation,  the  facts 
were  developed  that  Mrs.  Ridgeway  was  not  hurt  in  the 
full,  and  that  Captain  Estwicke,  who  happened  to  over 
take  them  at  the  "  big  gate,"  had  kindly  offered  them  his 
buggy.  In  orde**  that  he  might  not  be  kept  waiting  until 
they  could  send  the  vehicle  back,  Mr.  Ridgeway  desired 


16  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT. 

to  ask  if  his  host  could  lend  Captain  Estwicke  a  saddle 
horse. 

General  Vayne  could  and  would,  and  apologized  for 
not  offering  a  vehicle  instead.  Before  the  war  he  had 
been  "  horsey  "  on  a  princely  scale.  Now  he  possessed  a 
saddle-horse  or  two,  and  a  pair  of  jog-trot  sorrels  that 
served  alternately  in  the  plough  and  in  a  certain  dilapi 
dation  which  he  called  his  barouche.  This  had  already 
rumbled  off  to  Chattalla  full  of  the  elderly  guests. 

During  the  few  moments  required  for  the  horse  to  be 
saddled  the  whole  party  waited  on  the  front  steps.  The 
night  air  was  keen  and  penetrating.  A  great  star,  in 
splendid  isolation  near  the  zenith,  shivered  in  those  wide 
spaces  made  dark  by  its  own  brilliancy.  And  the  moon 
was  bright,  too  —  the  ragged,  withered  crab-grass,  still 
tufting  the  fissures  of  the  bomb-riven  pavements,  glittered 
with  rime  as  if  every  blade  was  frosted  with  silver. 
Vague  belts  of  vapor  lay  upon  the  battlefield,  and  fluctu 
ated  with  mystic  glimmers.  Estwicke  watched  it  ab 
sently  as  he  stood  a  little  aside,  heedless  of  the  talk  of  the 
elders,  whose  black  shadows  and  animated  gestures  were 
grotesquely  defined  on  the  blocks  of  limestone  that 
floored  the  portico. 

Marcia  was  silent,  too.  Once  she  cast  a  timorous 
glance  upon  him.  Then  her  eyes  fell.  Still  she  did  not 
doubt  that  he  would  receive  what  she  wished  to  say  as 
rimply  and  kindly  as  it  was  intended. 

"  Captain  Estwicke,"  she  faltered,  "  I  want  to  tell  you 
—  I  —  I  —  am  very  sorry,  but  —  but  —  you  won't  do  for 
a  pupil  at  all.  You  can't  learn  to  reason.  You  have  too 
much  imagination." 

She  glanced  up  and  smiled.  The  next  moment  her 
heart  misgave  her.  He  was  looking  at  her  in  coo' 
surprise. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  17 

,a.nd  what  if  she  had  taken  too  much  for  granted  !  He 
ttk  <tht  not  have  cared  at  all  —  he  might  even  have  for 
gotten.  She  blushed  painfully.  She  could  not  think  to 
choose  her  words  —  she  could  not  be  silent  while  his  eyes 
tacitly  asked  an  explanation.  She  hastily  stipulated  — 

"I  alluded  to  teaching  you  to  distinguish'  between 
North  and  South-  I  only  meant  the  points  of  the  com 
pass  —  Geography,  you  know,"  she  added,  lucidly. 

"  I  am  very  grateful  that  you  should  trouble  yourself  to 
tell  me,"  he  said,  gravely.  "I  misunderstood  you.  I 
hope  you  will  forgive  me." 

She  was  silent  in  astonishment.  What  chaos  was  here ! 
She  had  tendered  her  regrets,  and  now  he  was  begging 
her  pardon.  In  the  simple  life  of  her  little  planet  she 
had  never  before  had  occasion  to  question  the  appropri 
ateness  of  any  of  her  good  and  gentle  impulses.  It  came 
upon  her  with  a  crushing  sense  of  humiliation  that  she 
had  done  an  awkward,  a  silly  thing  —  she  even  thought 
it,  at  this  moment,  forward.  She  wondered  that  she 
should  discern  all  this  so  late.  She  said  to  herself  that 
he  was  a  man  of  the  world,  whose  spurious  gallantry 
would  not  permit  him  to  accept  nn  apology  from  a  lady. 
The  slight  wordy  dexterity  with  which  he  had  reversed 
then*  mutual  position,  and  placed  himself  in  the  humble 
^ase  of  begging  her  pardon,  instead  of  granting  forgive 
ness,  seemed  to  her  painfully  insincere.  It  was  her  first 
experience  of  the  world's  little  feints,  and  it  chilled  her. 
She  flinched  too  from  the  thought  of  how  absurd  the 
whole  episode  must  be  to  him. 

And  in  fact  he  laughed  as  he  rode  away  in  the  moon 
light. 

"Now,  that  was  mighty  good  of  her,"  he  protested. 
"  She  thought  I  was  cut  to  pieces  —  routed ! "  And  he 
laughed  again. 


18  WHEEE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

He  had  pressed  the  horse  into  a  gallop,  and  was  speed 
ing  through  the  infinite  loneliness  of  the  moonlit  expanse. 
When  the  animal  abruptly  swerved  aside,  he  glanced 
down  to  recognize  the  shallow  rifle-pits  of  the  old  picket 
line.  He  knew  none  of  the  traditions  of  the  place,  but  as 
he  reached  Fort  Despair,  and  rode  along,  close  upon  the 
crest  of  the  counterscarp — dank  and  sodden  with  the 
lale  rains  now,  once  dank  and  sodden  with  a  darker  cur 
rent —  there  came  upon  him  a  mysterious  sense  of  a 
mighty  multitude  astir  in  the  vast,  vague  plain.  A 
strange,  rhythmic  throb  shook  the  earth  —  or  was  it  in 
the  air  ?  The  haunted  thickets  shuddered  audibly  as  he 
passed.  Once,  when  the  steely  gleam  of  a  sabre  was 
thrust  suddenly  forth,  he  turned  and  looked  back  with 
fierce  eyes  —  that  changed  and  were  startled.  But  it 
might  have  been  only  the  shimmering  of  a  moonbeam 
on  the  white  bark  of  an  aspen  shoot.  As  he  rode  on 
down  the  scarred,  treeless  bank  of  the  river,  the  earth 
pulsated  with  a  stronger  tremor,  a  great  white  light  sprang 
upon  the  horizon,  and  the  whistle  of  the  down  train  from 
Marston  split  the  air. 

Into  the  mist  and  into  the  moonlight  a  series  of  massive, 
isolated  columns  of  masonry  rose  starkly  out  of  the  black 
water.  They  were  the  piers  of  the  old  turnpike  bridge, 
burned  one  night  long  ago  to  cover  a  frantic  retreat  and 
impede  a  frantically  fierce  pursuit.  He  checked  his  horse 
near  the  brink  and  gazed  at  them.  There  was  something 
BO  picturesque  and  martial  in  the  equestrian  figure,  thus 
thrown  into  bold  relief  against  the  moonlit  sky,  that  Mr 
Ridgeway,  in  mid-stream  upon  the  broad,  flat  ferry-boat, 
called  his  wife's  attention  to  it. 

"Captain  Estwicke  is  not  going  back  to  his  friend's 
house,"  added  the  old  gentleman.  "  He  tells  me  he  will 
spend  the  night  at  the  hotel  in  Chattalla,  in  order  to  catch 


WHERE  THE   BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  19 

the  early  train  for  Marston.  The  barracks  are  five  miles 
from  Marston." 

The  ferryman  heard  this.  He  lived  on  the  highway, 
he  saw  everybody  that  came  and  went,  and  he  had  the 
interest  of  the  professed  gossip  in  small  details.  He 
noted  the  name,  and  when  he  had  landed  the  old  couple 
on  the  opposite  bank  he  pulled  lustily  upon  the  rope,  and 
the  cumbersome  craft,  pulsing  with  the  current,  crossed 
more  rapidly  than  usual  under  the  impetus  of  Tom  Toole's 
curiosity  about  the  stranger.  As  he  ran  in  to  land  there 
was  a  sudden,  sharp  change  on  his  stolid,  unspeculative 
countenance.  He  stood  staring,  with  wild,  dumfoundcd 
recognition,  at  Estwicke,  who  still  sat  motionless  upon 
the  horse,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  obeliscal  columns,  a 
dreary  memorial,  in  the  midst  of  the  swift  current.  After 
a  moment  of  doubt  and  hesitation,  Toole  tremulously 
held  the  lantern  up  at  arm's  length,  throwing  the  light 
full  upon  the  officer's  face.  It  was  no  longer  pallid, 
spectral,  as  it  had  been  in  the  moonlight.  The  artificial 
gleam  suddenly  evoked  all  its  peculiar  coloring  —  the 
dark  red  of  his  hair  and  beard,  the  fiery  spark  in  his 
challenging  brown  eyes,  the  warm  tint  of  his  tanned 
complexion. 

"  My  good  Lord  A'mighty ! "  the  ferryman  broke  forth, 
"  thar  ain't  many  men  ez  knows  what  I  knows,  an'  hev 
seen  what  I  hev  seen,  ez  would  like  ter  git  a  glimge  of 
ye  now  —  a-settin'  in  that  saddle  an'  a-lookin'  fust  at 
the  old  forts,  like  ye  war  a-studyin'  'bout  'n  the  range  o' 
the  guns,  an'  then  a-medjurin'  that  thar  bridge  with  yer 
eye." 

Estwicke  turned  quickly.  Toole  flinched  beneath  his 
glance,  and  held  up  one  hand  as  if  to  ward  it  off,  laugh 
ing  confusedly  at  himself  the  while  for  the  involuntary 
gesture. 


20  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

"  Ye  might  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  feather  jes 
now.  Bless  God,  I  thought  'twas  him  agin!"  he  pro- 
tested,  laying  his  hand  on  the  rope  as  Estwicke  pushed 
his  horse  down  upon  the  ferry-boat.  The  pause  was 
broken  only  by  the  gurgling  of  the  water,  and  the  rattling 
of  the  "  block  an'  tickle  "  as  every  effort  sent  the  broad, 
flat  craft  throbbing  on  its  way.  Then  he  replied  to  the 
inquiry  in  Estwicke's  face. 

"  By  God !  "  he  exclaimed,  wildly,  "  I  've  seen  ye  hyar 
afore,  a-ridin'  an'  a-raidin'  on  the  banks  o'  this  ruver, 
mounted  an'  armed,  an'  a-medjurin'  the  bridge  with  yer 
eye.  But  then  —  ye  fired  it  with  yer  own  hands  —  with 
yer  own  hands.  I  know  it.  These  rocks  know  it.  None  of 
us  hev  forgot.  An'  I  seen  ye  hyar  agin,"  he  added,  lower 
ing  his  voice, "  a-lyin'  dead  —  dead !  —  on  the  ground  yander 
a-nigh  Fort  Despair,  shot  through  the  lungs,  an'  through 
the  head,  an'  half  crushed  by  the  carcass  o'  yer  horse ! " 

He  paused  abruptly. 

There  was  on  Estwicke's  face  a  sudden  look  of  recoil 
which  imposed  silence.  The  ferryman  had  loosened  his 
grasp  upon  the  rope,  and  the  wayward  plunging  of  the 
boat  was  like  the  disordered  throbbing  of  some  great 
heart.  He  could  not  interpret  that  look.  He  was  wrest 
ling  with  a  vague,  superstitious  thrill.  The  equestrian 
figure  seemed  to  rise  into  abnormal  proportions.  Its  eyes 
—  its  inscrutable  eyes  —  were  fixed  with  some  imperious 
protest  upon  him.  And  he  remembered  the  face!  He 
was  shut  off  from  the  world  with  it  —  all  the  moonlit 
water  was  around  them  and  all  the  misty  air.  Again  he 
laid  hold  on  the  rope,  pulling  hard  for  the  shore  —  for 
deliverance,  keeping  his  shoulder  toward  the  figure,  but 
ever  and  anon  turning,  under  a  morbid  fascination,  a 
fluctuating  glance  upon  it,  impelled  by  the  very  strength 
of  the  contradictory  desire  to  see  it  no  more. 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  21 

But  when  he  was  about  to  land,  the  approach  to  a  more 
familiar  element  restored,  in  a  measure,  his  self-posses 
sion. 

"  Ye  air  the  livin'  image  o'  that  man,  cap'n,"  he  said, 
tremulously.  "Of  course  I  know  'taint  him  agin.  His 
name  warn't  yourn.  I  useter  know  his  name,  though  E 
hev  furgot  it  now.  I  hope  ye  don't  take  no  grudge  at 
oein'  called  like  a  Johnny  Reb.  They  hev  hed  the  respec' 
j'  soldiers  afore  now." 

There  was  no  answer.  The  horse's  hoofs  sounded  loud 
upon  the  planks;  the  rider  pressed  swiftly  in  among  the 
mists  and  the  shadows ;  and  he  was  gone. 

Then  the  ferryman  looked  down  at  the  boat.  It  had 
risen  in  the  water.  "  He  weighs  !  "  he  exclaimed  suddenly. 
After  a  moment  he  turned  about  with  a  laugh.  "Of 
course  the  man  weighs.  Thar's  two  of  'em!  An'  this 
man's  name  is  Estwicke  —  an'  what  war  t'other  one's 
name?  Ef"  —  he  cast  a  swift  glance  at  the  empty  em 
brasures  of  the  distant  fort  —  "ef  thar  ever  war  enny 
other  one." 

He  pondered  upon  this  problem  as  he  pulled  the  boat 
across  the  river,  and  again  while  he  walked  up  the  bank 
toward  a  little  log-house  where  the  window  was  still 
a-light. 

He  paused  half-way  in  his  absorption,  only  roused  when 
a  breath  of  wind  brought  to  him  a  strange  sound  from  out 
the  thicket  close  to  Fort  Despair,  a  sound  of  the  whicker 
ing  of  horses  and  the  heavy  tramp  of  hoofs,  and  a  clangor 
as  of  the  clash  of  sabres,  and  a  note  —  was  it?  —  a  ncto 
from  a  bugle.  He  remembered  that  a  company  of 
cavalry  was  literally  annihilated  there  under  a  murderous 
cross-fire  —  he  hastened  on  —  and  on  the  evening  of  the 
first  day's  fight,  when  captured  and  led  to  the  rear,  he 
saw,  lyin^  among  the  dead  on  the  ground  that  the  enemy 


22  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

held,  this  man  —  this  staff-officer.  He  had  reached  the 
door  of  his  house ;  he  struck  it  with  his  heavy  hand.  He 
had  recalled  the  name  at  last,  and  the  recollection  entered 
with  him  into  his  home  like  a  curse. 


CHAPTER  II. 

TpSTWICKE  slept  little  that  night.  For  long  hours 
-C-^  he  lay  gazing  at  the  pallid  wintry  moonlight  as  it 
crept,  barred  with  the  shadow  of  the  tiny  window-panes, 
across  the  floor  of  his  room  at  the  village  hotel.  The 
winds  had  died  away.  The  world  without  was  mute. 
Within,  the  intense  quietude  was  broken  only  by  the  light 
sound  of  his  watch  under  his  pillow  checking  off  the 
seconds.  It  seemed  loud  and  strident,  and  its  monotonous 
iteration  jarred  upon  his  nerves.  He  drew  it  forth  pre 
sently  and  stopped  the  works.  And  then  he  could  hear 
only  his  passionate  pulses  beat.  These  he  might  not 
pilence  so  lightly. 

He  rose  after  a  time,  stirred  the  failing  fire,  dressed  and 
lighted  a  cigar.  He  drew  a  chair  to  the  window  and  sat 
aimlessly  looking  out  upon  the  street.  More  than  once 
he  sighed  heavily,  —  heavily.  The  shadows  and  the 
moonlight  shifted  about  the  "Square."  The  sonorous 
clangor  of  the  clock,  in  the  court-house  tower,  ever  and 
anon  warned  the  world  how  the  time  wore  on.  Ho 
watched  a  mist  rise,  and  hover,  and  drift  away.  lie; 
looked  to  the  east  for  the  flush  of  dawn.  But  clouds 
were  gathering  silently,  and  in  the  morning  they  hung 
low  and  dense. 

This  assisted  the  somewhat  dreary  aspect  of  the  place, 
for  the  pretty  homes  of  Chattalla  and  the  graces  of  ita 
social  life  were  well  out  of  sight  behind  the  two-story 


24  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

business  blocks  that  surrounded  the  muddy,  ill-paved 
Square,  in  the  centre  of  which  was  the  court-house  yard 
and  the  Temple  of  Justice  itself.  A  gaunt  sycamore 
tree  overhung  this  red  brick  structure;  the  grass  was 
covered  with  dank  withered  leaves;  to  the  iron  fence 
saddle-horses  were  hitched  in  time-honored  defiance  of 
the  august  legislation  of  the  county  court.  As  Estwicke 
strolled  out  in  front  of  the  hotel  after  breakfast  he  was 
impressed  by  a  certain  military  aspect  about  the  citizens. 
The  teamsters  standing  near  their  wagons,  loaded  with 
wood  or  country  produce,  shouldered  their  long-handJed 
whips  in  a  soldierly  fashion,  implying  a  similar  habitude 
with  a  far  deadlier  weapon.  An  equestrian  group,  that 
might  well  have  served  a  painter  for  a  study  of  cavalry, 
had  gathered  about  the  town  scales,  where  the  weighing 
of  cattle  was  in  progress.  A  dry-goods  clerk,  middle- 
aged  and  iron-gray,  came  out  of  a  store  and  crossed  the 
Square  to  the  bank.  Estwicke's  eyes  followed  the  erect 
figure  with  its  practised,  measured  gait. 

"  That  man  has  marched  a  thousand  miles  to  the  throb 
of  the  drum,"  he  said. 

When  the  rain  began  to  fall  heavily  in  myriads  of  dun- 
colored  lines  it  drove  the  population  within  doors  except 
the  teamsters,  still  lounging  near  their  horses'  heads,  and 
Saturday's  crowd  of  black  humanity  that  surged  about  a 
row  of  Jew  stores  denominated  by  common  consent 
"  Jerusalem." 

The  contemplation  of  this  picture  from  the  hotel  win- 
dow  was  his  only  resource  during  the  morning,  and  he 
regarded  the  approach  of  the  belated  train  as  in  the 
nature  of  a  rescue. 

He  established  himself  with  a  newspaper  and  a  cigar  ID 
the  smoking-car,  and  did  not  Jook  up  until  his  name  wa* 
called. 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  25 

C(  Glad  to  see  you  back,"  said  a  young  man  who  was 
entering  from  the  "  ladies'  car."  He  smiled  agreeably  and 
offered  his  hand,  then  leaned  unsteadily  against  the  arm 
of  the  seat  while  he  struck  a  match  and  applied  it  to 
his  cigarette.  He  was  a  tall,  supple,  dandyish  young  fel 
low,  with  a  sparkling  clever  face,  a  girl's  complexion,  a 
long,  silky,  brown  mustache,  and  hair  and  eyes  of  the 
same  shade.  The  officer  moved  to  give  room,  and  he 
slipped  into  the  place  assigned  him  with  a  panther-like 
ease  and  grace  that  habitually  characterized  his  motions, 
and  made  heavier  and  more  muscular  men  seem  a  trifle 
awkward  and  clumsy  in  comparison. 

"  I  'm  not  going  to  tell  you  we  've  missed  you.  And 
why  ?  Because  you  have  come  among  us  too  lately  to 
believe  me,"  he  declared,  lightly. 

"  Don't  think  you  overtax  my  credulity,  Mr.  Meredith," 
said  Estwicke,  somewhat  satirically.  "  I  can  fancy  how 
the  society  of  Yankee  officers  must  be  prized  among  you." 

Meredith  laughed  coolly.  He  had  been  too  young  to 
bear  his  share  on  this  historic  plain  that  stretched  so  far 
around  them  on  every  side ;  he  had  grown  happily  into 
manhood  under  the  new  regime.  He  held  something  of 
the  old  theories,  but  in  the  revolving  years  his  mind  had 
been  caught  on  the  cogs  of  new  ideas,  and  revolved  with 
them.  He  looked  with  unruffled  serenity  at  his  com 
panion. 

"You  are  so  eager  in  helping  us  to  keep  the  peace  that 
you  never  forget  your  mission.  It  had  escaped  me  for 
the  instant.  Do  you  find  it  hard  work?  Very  arduous, 
oh?" 

Estwicke  laughed,  too.  "  Well,  on  the  whole  you  are 
not  so  bad  as  the  Indians,"  he  said,  temperately.  "  But 
you  are  duller, — far!  There  is  some  healthy  snap  and 
go  on  the  frontier." 


20  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

"  That  pleasing  uncertainty  about  being  scalped  is  the 
one  redeeming  feature  of  your  profession  —  otherwise  it 
is  too  painfully  definite,"  said  Meredith,  philosophically. 
"  If  you  keep  your  scalp — when  it  is  gray  you  '11  still  be 
Captain  Estwicke,  unless  we  can  get  up  a  foreign  war  or 
a  civil  commotion  for  your  advancement.  Whereas  /," 
with  a  hopeful  rising  inflection,  "  may  in  the  course  of 
time,  and  by  the  force  of  talent  alone,  be  a  Chief  Justice 
—  and  then  again,  by  the  force  of  talent  alone,  I  may  n't. 
Room  for  speculation,  eh  ?  " 

"  Strikes  me,  on  the  contrary,  that  your  prospects  are 
painfully  definite,  too,"  said  Estwicke.  "  Your  father  and 
his  partner  will  take  you  in  as  a  third  after  a  while.  So 
you'll  be  perpetually  bringing  up  the  rear,  overcrowed 
by  the  two  big  lawyers.  Your  father  will  think  he  ought 
to  do  something  for  you  —  that 's  the  way  he  '11  do  it." 

"Not  he  —  not  he,"  protested  Meredith.  "I  wish  he 
would.  My  father  has  a  theory  that  if  a  young  lawyer  is 
not  helped  he  will  help  himself  —  to  any  stray  litigation 
that  may  be  afloat,  as  it  were,  in  the  air.  He  has  left  me 
to  illustrate  this  theory." 

"  How  does  it  work  ?  "  asked  Estwicke,  with  interest. 

"  I  pray  God  I  may  n't  starve,"  said  Meredith,  tersely. 

"  Room  for  speculation,  eh  ?  "  suggested  Estwicke. 

Chattalla  had  faded  in  the  distance,  and  now  the  earth- 
works  loomed  up  through  the  low-lying  vapors  and  the 
blurring  rain,  vague  and  distorted  but  always  grim  and 
grewsome.  As  the  train  thundered  with  a  hollow  roar 
or  the  railroad  bridge,  there  could  be  caught  a  fleeting 
gl  mpse  of  the  isolated  piers,  and  of  the  ferry-boat,  pausing 
in  mid-stream  that  Tom  Toole  might  gaze  after  the  cloud 
of  smoke,  which  lay  on  the  top  of  the  cars,  and  drifted 
back  to  the  redoubts  and  hung  about  the  empty  ei» 
brasures  suggestively. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  27 

Estwicke,  oblivious  of  the  landscape,  was  absorbed  ii» 
the  conversation.  He  was  essentially  a  man  of  this  world. 
He  craved  the  companionship  of  other  men.  He  could 
not  live  apart  from  it.  He  had  none  of  those  intimate 
inner  resources  that  make  solitude  sweet.  Except  for 
some  principles  of  gunnery,  bearing  upon  a  still  unper- 
fected  improvement  of  his  own,  he  cared  nothing  for 
the  study  of  science.  Apart  from  the  history  of  splen 
did  achievement,  some  stirring  martial  lyrics,  the  biog 
raphies  of  great  commanders,  he  had  no  fondness  for 
reading.  His  books  were  the  men  about  him ;  their 
experience,  their  lives,  formed  his  interest,  and  as  in  the 
ever  shifting  combinations  of  human  events  they  lapsed 
upon  his  own  life  he  too  bore  a  part  in  this  sentient  liter 
ature.  He  had  a  quick  understanding  of  men,  and  a  pas 
sionate  sympathy  with  them.  He  did  not  even  affect  an 
appreciation  of  art ;  he  looked  blankly  at  its  results.  But 
an  unrecognized  something  in  the  burnished  sunlight,  the 
silver-shotted  moonlit  mists,  the  haze  on  the  purple  hills, 
the  sound  of  the  melancholy  autumn  wind  subtly  thrilled 
to  his  heart  and  prevailed  within  him  mightily.  He  found 
a  wondrous  sensuous  exaltation  in  the  mystery  and  the  joy 
of  being.  He  felt  that  his  blood  was  swift  in  his  veins ; 
he  stretched  his  limbs ;  he  admired  his  muscles ;  he  took 
jognizance  of  an  involuntary  alertness  of  his  mental  fac 
ulties;  he  knew  that  he  was  strong,  and  well,  and  gra 
ciously  endowed.  But  he  had  no  questions  to  ask  of 
Heaven  or  Earth.  He  was  too  definite  for  mere  abstrac 
tions,  and  adhered  mechanically  to  the  faith  of  the 
fathers. 

Despite  his  imperfectly  tempered  aggressiveness  he  pos 
sessed  certain  qualities  of  good-comradeship,  —  his  zest  in 
life,  his  soldierly  frankness,  and  his  ardor  commended 
themselves  to  Meredith,  who  was  presently  surprised  in 


28  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

tlie  midst  of  the  desultory  talk,  which  was  neither  wise 
nor  witty,  to  see  that  the  twenty  miles  had  slipped  past, 
that  billowy  sweeps  of  hills  were  on  every  side,  that  the 
city  was  elusively  appearing  and  disappearing,  mirage-like, 
in  the  purple  distance. 

They  parted  at  the  depot,  and  until  evening  Estwickc 
was  greatly  harassed  with  loneliness,  for  his  regiment  had 
but  recently  been  stationed  in  the  vicinity,  and  he  knew 
few  of  the  citizens.  Nothing  was  going  on  at  either  of 
the  theatres,  and  he  could  only  mitigate  the  tedium  after 
tea  by  lounging  about  the  hotel  with  a  promiscuous  crowd 
of  smokers,  who  habitually  congregated  here,  for  Marston 
boasted  no  club-houses.  A  fountain  in  the  centre  of  the 
tessellated  floor  was  tossing  up  pretty  corolla-shaped  jets 
of  spray,  that  sparkled  in  the  gaslight.  The  clerks  bullied 
the  incoming  travellers.  A  mocking-bird  in  a  cage  sang 
shrilly ;  the  cheerful  click  of  billiard  balls  was  heard  from 
behind  a  colonnade,  and  through  its  vistas  might  be  de 
scried  delicately  poised  cues  and  nimbly  attitudinizing 
figures. 

The  scene  soon  palled  upon  Estwicke.  He  began  to 
think  of  driving  out  to  the  barracks  to-night  instead  of  in 
the  morning,  but  Meredith  came  in  from  the  street,  and 
the  resolve  faded. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  that  you  are  still  in  town,"  said  the 
lawyer,  as  they  met. 

Following,  as  was  often  the  case,  in  Meredith's  footsteps, 
was  his  cousin,  Tom  West,  a  jaunty  young  sprig,  some 
twenty  or  twenty-two  years  old,  who  effusively  claimed 
JEstwicke's  acquaintance.  As  they  shook  hands  the  officer 
became  aware  of  a  close  scrutiny  directed  upon  him  from 
over  the  tall,  young  fledgling's  shoulder.  It  emanated 
from  a  pair  of  cold,  fishy  eyes,  set  in  an  impassive,  florid 
face,  which  belonged  to  a  stout,  middle-aged,  soberly 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  29 

dressed,  responsible-looking  party.  Estwicke  could  not 
have  said  explicitly  why  he  was  so  unfavorably  impressed, 
aor  why  when  West,  with  callow  self-sufficiency,  intro 
duced  the  stranger  as  his  friend,  Mr.  Casey,  it  seemed  so 
rery  odd  that  he  should  have  a  friend  like  this.  Estwicke, 
nechanically  extending  his  hand,  looked  at  Casey  witb 
jponted  fierce  intentness,  and  noted  the  indefinable  but 
itrong  intimations  lurking  about  him  of  solid  commercial 
pursuits.  Somehow  his  breadth  of  waistcoat,  his  sparing- 
ness  of  speech,  his  quiet,  grave  manner,  assisted  this  effect. 
The  man  who  knew  men  could  not  reconcile  it  with  the 
look  in  his  eye  and  stony  countenance. 

He  showed  a  disposition  to  devote  himself  to  West,  and 
said  little  to  Estwicke,  who  presently  turned  back  in  re 
lief  to  Meredith. 

"  How  do  you  get  away  with  these  long  evenings  ?  "  he 
demanded. 

"  Professional  study,  generally ;  regular  midnight  oil 
business." 

"  Nice  boy !  "  ejaculated  Estwicke. 

"Sometimes,"'  said  Meredith,  signifying  by  a  gesture 
that  he  desired  the  favor  of  a  light  from  Estwicke's  cigar, 
"  sometimes  clients  get  as  scarce  as  hen's  teeth,  and  the 
justice's  court  —  most  of  my  practice  is  in  that  humble 
modern  pie  poudre  —  tke  justice's  court  knows  me  no 
more.  Then  I  make  up  my  mind  to  renounce  the  profes 
sion  before  it  is  in  everybody's  mouth  that  the  profession 
has  renounced  me.  So  I  play  billiards  in  the  evening,  or 
go  to  the  theatre,  or  call  on  the  young  ladies." 

"  Oh,  the  young  ladies !  "  cried  Estwicke,  stroking  his 
whiskers.  "  That's  mighty  bad !  " 

He  looked  at  Meredith,  and  laughed  as  he  received  his 
cigar  back. 

A  band  of  itinerant  musicians  suddenly  struck  up  a 


30  WHERE  THE  BAVTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

popular  waltz,  and  the  rotunda  was  filled  with  surging 
waves  of  sound.  "This  is  insufferable,"  said  Meredith. 
"  Suppose  we  go  up  to  my  room,  where  we  can  have  a 
quiet  smoke  and  talk." 

As  they  passed  the  fountain  West  approached  them. 
"  Going  upstairs  ?  "  he  asked  of  his  cousin. 

Meredith  nodded.     "  Will  you  come  with  us  ?  " 

"  And  I'll  bring  Casey,"  West  declared  agreeably,  very 
slightly  lowering  his  voice ;  "  that  is  if  you  have  no  ob 
jection.  I  'm  under  great  obligations  to  him,  and  as  he 
knows  nobody  in  town  but  us  I  feel  bound  to  see  him 
through  and  make  his  stay  as  pleasant  as  possible." 

Meredith  frowned,  and  hesitated.  But  Casey  was  stand 
ing  at  no  great  distance,  and  had  evidently  overheard  the 
conversation.  Estwicke  experienced  a  twinge  of  uneasi 
ness.  Despite  his  ill-defined  antipathy  toward  Casey,  and 
although  the  suggestion  that  he  should  join  them  had 
destroyed  every  prospect  of  pleasure,  it  seemed  to  Est 
wicke  almost  a  cruelty  to  refuse  publicly  so  slight  and 
apparently  so  reasonable  a  request.  He  watched  Meredith 
with  expectant  eyes. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  like,"  the  young  lawyer  assented,  not 
too  graciously,  and  turned  away. 

"  That's  a  boon,"  he  muttered  to  Estwicke,  who  made  no 
reply,  for  at  that  moment  they  stepped  into  the  elevator, 
and  stood  silent  and  with  their  cigars  held  low  and  re 
versed,  like  the  muskets  of  privates  at  a  military  funeral, 
in  deference  to  a  group  of  ladies  within. 

"  I  roost  high,"  said  Meredith,  when  they  had  gotten 
out  on  an  upper  story.  "  It  comes  cheaper  up  here,  and 
there's  better  ventilation.  '  Beggars  all,  but,  marry,  good 
air.' " 

After  they  were  seated  before  the  blazing  fire  in  Mere, 
dith's  room,  West  seemed  altogether  unaware  of  the  re* 


WHEEE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  31 

luctant  toleration  with  which  his  entertainer  regarded  the 
amendment  to  the  quiet  smoke  and  talk.  With  his  gay, 
youthful  self-sufficiency,  he  absorbed  the  conversation  as 
far  as  he  might.  He  was  facetious,  and  flippantly  frater 
nized  with  Casey. 

"Captain,"  he  said  to  Estwicke,  with  an  explanatory 
wave  of  his  hand  toward  his  solemn  red-faced  friend, 
"  there  is  the  great  original  David  !  And  I  am  Jonathan  ! 
Was  n't  it  David  who  saved  Jonathan's  life  ?  "  He  pulled 
at  his  mustache  and  laughed  and  smoked  his  big  cigar 
with  manly  gusto. 

"  Oh,  it  was  nothing,  nothing  whatever,"  declared  Casey. 
His  manner  suggested  that  from  good  nature  he  was  con 
tent  to  lightly  waive  recognition  of  a  feat. 

The  sharp  young  lawyer  apprehended  the  intimation. 

"  Nothing '?"  he  repeated  satirically.  "  Nothing  to  save 
Tom  West's  life  ?  Why,  it  was  a  public  benefaction  ! " 

Estwicke,  with  his  quick  interest  in  exploits,  his  love  of 
danger,  his  enthusiastic  admiration  of  bravery,  turned  to 
Casey  with  a  sudden  sense  of  respect. 

"May  I  ask  how  that  came  about?" 

Casey  hesitated,  and  Estwicke  presently  recognized  iu 
this  a  tact  which  was  hardly  consonant  with  such  a  slow- 
seeming  man,  for  West,  after  waiting  expectantly  for  a 
moment,  plunged  into  an  account  of  a  recent  railroad 
accident,  that  might  have  been  very  disastrous,  but  had 
resulted  in  nothing  worse  than  cooping  him  up  in  the 
debris,  whence  by  some  exercise  of  thews  and  sinews  — 
of  which  Mr.  Casey  was  amply  capable — he  was  extri 
cated.  His  rescue  had  evidently  involved  no  risk,  but  it 
had  served  as  an  introduction  of  Casey,  who  was  adroitly 
abetting  West  in  magnifying  its  importance.  Estwicke 
listened  with  contemptuous  amusement,  and  Meredith's 
efforts  to  conceal  his  impatience  had  grown  so  lame  that 


32  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

his  relief  was  very  evident  when  a  knock  at  the  door  in- 
terrupted  the  conversation,  and  a  card  was  brought  in. 
He  glanced  at  it  in  surprise. 

"  Show  the  gentleman  up,"  he  said,  and  the  brisk,  and 
grinning  bell-boy  disappeared. 

The  interval  that  ensued  was  expectant.  Perhaps  this 
was  the  reason  the  new-comer  appeared  upon  the  scene 
with  the  impressiveness  of  the  principal  character  of  a 
drama.  Perhaps  it  might  be  that  life  had  always  cast 
Maurice  Brennett  for  the  leading  business,  and  he  bore 
himself  in  a  manner  befitting  the  title  rdle.  His  eyes  had 
a  peculiar  brilliancy,  and  were  capable  of  an  intent  ex 
pression  so  concentrated  that  when  suddenly  elicited  it 
had  a  sinister  effect,  and  put  its  subject  instinctively  on 
guard.  He  was  tall,  thin,  angular,  and  dressed  with  an 
elaborate  fastidiousness  that  was  somehow  oddly  incon 
gruous  with  his  pale,  powerful,  intellectual  face  —  he 
seemed  rather  the  type  of  man  who  scorns  the  minutiae 
of  externals.  Between  his  mobile  eyebrows  many  a 
scheme  had  registered  itself  in  subtle  hieroglyphics. 
There  was  a  look  of  severely  maintained  repression  about 
the  hard  lines  of  his  lips  as  if  the  controlling  influences  of 
Ms  nature  had  had  a  struggle  for  ascendency  over  other 
wild  and  turbulent  forces.  Even  now  the  slight  annoy 
ance  of  finding  a  group  here  instead  of  the  man  he  wanted 
had  brought  a  quiver  to  the  thin,  sensitive  nostrils  of  his 
sharp,  hooked,  and  delicately  chiselled  nose.  His  pallor 
was  the  pallor  of  late  hours  —  not  such  as  these  young 
fellows  kept,  but  the  anxious  vigils  of  thought,  the  can 
vassing  of  opportunity,  and  the  inception  of  plans.  He 
had  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  the  gaslight  revealed  such 
glimmers  here  and  there  in  his  dark  hair,  clipped  close 
about  a  shapely  head,  and  in  his  full,  dark  mustache,  as 
might  intimate  that  he  was  fast  growing  gray,  which  is 
premature  at  forty. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  33 

His  presence  exerted  a  singular  influence  upon  the 
other  men ;  their  personal  peculiarities  were  suddenly 
abnormally  pronounced. 

Casey  seemed  trebly  slow,  stolid,  rubicund.  West 
looked  very  callow,  and  felt  very  callow  too ;  Meredith's 
dainty  complexion,  his  silky  mustache,  his  sparkle,  were 
almost  effeminate.  Estwicke  silently  measured  the 
stranger  with  challenging  eyes. 

"  I  have  hardly  time  for  this,"  Brennett  said,  as  he  took 
the  cigar  which  Meredith  tendered  him.  "  My  business 
with  you  is  rather  imperative." 

Meredith  was  a  trifle  confused,  having  naturally  enough 
supposed  that  the  visit  at  this  place  and  hour  had  only  a 
social  significance.  Upon  the  word  business,  the  others 
made  a  motion  as  if  to  take  leave. 

"  I  fear  I  am  interrupting  you,"  Brennett  continued, 
looking  round  at  the  group.  "  I  feel  rather  like  the  ghost 
of  fiction  who  routs  a  pleasure  party.  It  is  a  hackneyed 
theme,  but  no  one  has  adequately  considered  the  embar 
rassing  position  of  the  ghost." 

There  was  a  laugh  at  this  and  a  momentary  hesitation. 

"  You  will  greatly  alleviate  it  if  you  won't  allow  me  to 
put  you  to  flight.  I  only  want  a  few  minutes'  consulta 
tion  with  Mr.  Meredith.  I  ventured  to  look  you  up  out 
of  office  hours  and  on  Saturday  night,"  he  continued  turn 
ing  to  the  young  lawyer,  "  because  I  have  information  that 
a  debtor  of  mine  is  about  to  run  off  his  cotton  on  a  Sunday 
freight,  and  this  may  be  my  last  opportunity  to  get  out  an 
attachment." 

"  I  insist  that  you  don't  go,"  said  Meredith,  addressing 
himself  specially  to  Estwicke.  "This  won't  keep  me 
long  —  meantime  suppose  you  have  a  game  of  cards.  I 
am  not  going  to  my  office  —  we  can  talk  the  matter  over 
here." 


84  WHE3E  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

He  flung  a  pack  of  cards  on  the  table;  then  he  and 
Brennett  turned  away  to  a  desk  which  was  on  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  room.  The  trio  at  the  table  chatted  for  a 
few  moments  in  a  desultory  strain,  but  presently  West, 
glancing  at  lawyer  and  client  now  fairly  immersed  in 
business,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  gathered  up  the  cards, 
and  with  a  juvenile  leer  at  the  others,  proposed  to  deal 
for  "draw." 

"  I  have  n't  played  for  so  long,  I  scarcely  remember  the 
game,"  protested  Casey. 

West  laughed  jeeringly;  he  joyed  so  in  his  amiable 
wickedness. 

"Oh,  Casey's  afraid  of  getting  turned  out  of  church. 
We'll  take  you  in  out  of  the  wet  —  won't  we,  Captain? 
We  belong  to  the  <  big  church ' —  we  do." 

Estwicke  made  no  reply;  he  hardly  relished  even  a 
"  big  church  "  membership  with  Casey. 

"I  suppose  we  play  with  a  limit?"  he  asked  impa 
tiently,  showing  some  eagerness  to  begin. 

West's  was  an  amiable  wickedness.  In  fact  it  was  only 
a  weak-kneed  semblance  —  that  would,  yet  might  not,  be. 
He  quaked  at  the  bare  suggestion  of  the  alternative. 

"Captain,  you  shock  me,"  he  declared.  "Of  course 
we  play  with  a  limit  —  fifty  cents — say." 

They  talked  very  little  when  once  fairly  at  it.  For  a 
time  Meredith,  who  sat  with  his  back  toward  them,  only 
knew  vaguely  that  somebody  was  "  passing  "  or  "  strad 
dling  the  blind,"  or  "  seeing  and  going  better."  Once  or 
twice  West  laughed  out  loud  and  long  in  triumph.  And 
again  his  voice  rose  in  excited  remonstrance,  to  which  his 
companions  seemed  to  pay  no  attention.  Then  the  room 
was  quiet  for  a  time,  and  the  lawyer  lost  cognizance  of 
everything  except  the  complications  of  Brennett's  liens 
and  his  debtor's  duplicity. 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  35 

"  How  many  bales  do  you  suppose  he  has  there  ? w 
Meredith  asked,  after  a  meditative  pause. 

There  was  no  answer. 

He  glanced  up  impatiently.  Brennett's  face  was  in 
stinct  with  an  alert  interest.  His  eyes,  lighted  by  some 
inward  sardonic  laughter,  were  fixed  upon  the  group  by 
the  fire. 

Meredith  turned  quickly,  and  at  this  moment  Estwicke, 
—  his  coat  thrown  off  upon  the  floor,  his  hat  thrust  on 
the  back  of  his  head,  the  hot  blood  crimsoning  his  sun 
burned  cheek,  the  perspiration  standing  thick  in  his  close- 
clipped  red  hair,  his  eyes  blazing  with  that  most  unholy 
fire,  the  gambler's  passion,  —  cocked  hi§  cigar  between 
his  set  teeth  and  raised  the  blind  one  hundred  dollars. 

West  had  passed  out  of  the  game,  had  drawn  away 
from  the  table,  and  was  gazing  with  dismayed  surprise  at 
the  swollen  proportions  of  the  pool  and  at  the  impassive, 
stony  countenance  of  Casey.  Not  a  feather  was  ruffled 
as  he  looked  cooly  into  Estwicke's  burning  eyes ;  he  was 
as  decorously  florid,  his  waistcoat  as  commercially  rotund 
as  ever,  but  his  demeanor  was  the  demeanor  of  the  pro 
fessional  expert. 

He  stolidly  made  good  —  and  then  he  drew  one  card, 
Estwicke  standing  Pat.  After  this,  for  a  few  moments, 
each  seemed  cautious,  making  very  small  bets.  But  pres 
ently,  when  Estwicke  raised  him  fifty  dollars,  Casey  "  saw 
;t "  and  went  a  hundred  better. 

Then  the  slow,  cumbrous  fellow,  according  to  his  habit, 
laid  his  cards,  face  downward,  on  the  table  in  front  of 
him,  with  a  single  chip  upon  them  to  hold  them  in  place, 
and  clasping  his  hands  lightly  upon  his  substantial  stomach, 
calmly  awaited  Estwicke's  "  say." 

And  all  at  once  Estwicke  looked  hard  at  the  man,  with 
a  change  on  his  expressive  face.  There  was  an  eager  sur- 


OD  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

prise  in  his  eyes ;  the  flush  of  sheer  excitement  deepened 
to  an  angry  glow ;  he  seemed  lost  for  an  instant  in  a  sort 
of  doubting  confusion.  Suddenly  he  made  good,  and 
"called." 

Meredith  was  thunder-struck  as  he  realized  the  full 
significance  of  the  scene.  He  rose  hastily.  "  Gentlemen," 
he  said,  sternly,  "  this  is  going  entirely  too  far." 

They  took  no  heed.  With  one  hand  Casey  laid  his  cards, 
a  ..straight  flush  —  ace,  king,  queen,  jack,  and  ten  of 
diamonds  —  upon  the  table  beside  Estwicke's  jack  full, 
while  with  the  other  hand  he  gathered  the  pool  toward 
him,  giving  no  sign  of  elation. 

"I  protest,"  began  Meredith.  He  stopped  suddenly 
short. 

Brennett  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  sharp  exclamation. 

It  happened  in  an  instant.  There  was  a  swift  move 
ment  of  Estwicke's  intent  figure;  he  thrust  his  hand 
behind  him,  and  seemed  to  draw  from  his  pistol-pocket  a 
glancing,  steely  flash  of  light ;  there  was  a  sharp,  metallic 
click  —  of  a  peculiarly  nerve-thrilling  quality ;  he  lunged 
across  the  table,  and  held  the  weapon  at  full  cock  at  the 
man's  head. 

Warned  by  Estwicke's  motion,  Casey  had  made  an 
effort  to  draw  his  pistol.  His  hand  grasped  it  in  his 
pocket. 

"  Move  your  right  arm  and  you  're  a  dead  man,"  said 
Estwicke  between  his  set  teeth.  They  were  strong  and 
white,  and  unconsciously  he  showed  them.  The  veins 
that  crossed  his  forehead  were  black  and  swollen.  His 
jreath  came  hot  and  fast  and  with  a  sibilant  sound.  He 
Beemed  to  think  as  Brennett  sprang  ap  that  there  would 
be  an  effort  to  disarm  him. 

"  If  you  interfere,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  — "  if  you 
touch  me  —  I  will  kill  you  —  I  will  kill  you ! " 


WHERE  THE    BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  37 

It  was  a  moment  of  terrible  suspense,  but  as  Brennett 
moved  hastily  back,  he  laughed  aloud  —  a  short,  ungenial 
laugh,  nervous  perhaps  —  or  was  the  fancy  so  absurd  that 
he  should  interfere ! 

Meredith's  motion  toward  Estwicke  was  arrested  by 
his  next  words.  "Drop  that  card  out  of  your  sleeve  — 
the  card  I  dealt  you." 

Casey  gazed  abjectly  at  him,  turning  even  paler  than 
before,  and  made  a  weak,  spasmodic  effort  to  speak,  -to 
deny. 

"No  use  talking,"  said  Estwicke,  cutting  him  short. 
"Drop  the  card."  His  finger  by  accident  or  design 
quivered  slightly  on  the  trigger. 

The  sharper  shook  his  sleeve,  and  the  three  of  diamonds 
fell  upon  the  table. 

"  The  exchange  was  quick  as  lightning  —  but  I  saw  it ! " 
Estwicke  declared. 

Without  lowering  his  eyes  or  moving  the  weapon,  he 
placed  with  his  left  hand  the  three  of  diamonds  on  the 
table  beside  the  straight  flush  to  illustrate  the  self-evident 
fact  that,  no  matter  which  of  the  cards  Casey  had  substi 
tuted  for  it,  the  hand  after  the  draw  was  merely  a  flush. 

"And  a  full  out-ranks  a  flush  !  "  he  proclaimed,  with  a 
fierce,  dictatorial  air. 

Casey  sat  before  him,  silent,  cowed,  helpless,  the 
revolver  that  he  still  grasped  in  his  pocket  as  useless  as  if 
his  right  hand  was  palsied. 

"  My  '  Full '  raked  the  pool !  "  thundered  Estwicke. 
"  I  won  it  all !  I  '11  have  it  all !  Fork !  With  your  left 
hand  —  mind." 

As  Casey  hastily  pushed  the  money  across  the  table,  a 
.modest  nickel  that  had  served  in  the  half  dollar  limit 
^ame  with  which  they  began,  fell  to  the  floor  and  rolled 
&way  among  the  shadows. 


38  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

He  had  surrendered  utterly  —  it  was  all  over.  A  breath 
of  relief  was  beginning  to  inflate  his  lungs,  which  in  the 
surprise  and  fright  had  seemed  to  forget  and  bungle  their 
familiar  functions.  The  other  men  moved  slightly  as 
they  stood,  —  an  involuntary  expression  of  the  relaxation 
of  the  tension  —  the  creak  of  Tom  West's  boots  was  to 
him  like  the  voice  of  a  friend.  Then  they  realized,  with 
the  shock  of  an  infinite  surprise,  that  Estwicke  sat  as 
motionless  as  if  he  were  carved  in  stone,  his  pistol  still 
held  at  the  cheat's  head.  The  room  was  so  silent  that 
they  might  hear  the  rumble  of  the  elevator  on  its  missions 
up  and  down,  the  throb  of  the  engine  in  the  cellar,  the 
faint  rattle  of  the  dishes  in  the  dining-room  far,  far  below 
the  high  story  where  the  young  man's  room  was  perched. 
They  understood  at  last,  and  it  came  upon  them  with  the 
amazing  effect  of  a  flash  of  lightning  from  a  clear  sky. 

Estwicke  was  waiting  for  the  nickel ! 

The  card-sharper  was  panting,  failing,  almost  losing 
consciousness.  He  did  not  dare  to  stoop  and  search  for  the 
coin  —  he  could  not  summon  his  voice  for  speech.  The 
tears  sprang  into  his  eyes  when  he  saw  that  the  situation 
was  at  length  comprehended  by  the  others. 

West  hastily  knelt  on  the  floor,  passed  his  tremulous 
fingers  over  the  dark  carpet,  clutched  the  coin  and  placed 
it  on  the  table. 

To  the  two  men  who  knew  Estwicke  best  the  episode 
was  a  frightful  illustration  of  a  certain  imperious  exacting- 
ness  which  they  had  discovered  even  in  their  short  ac 
quaintance  was  a  notable  characteristic  of  his  nature. 
F<  r  one  instant  longer  he  looked  hard  at  the  sharper. 
Then  he  brought  his  heavy  hand  down  upon  the  table 
in  the  midst  of  the  pile  of  greenbacks,  with  a  vehemence 
that  sent  a  shiver  through  every  glass  in  the  room. 

"  Damn  you !  "  he  cried  out,  fiercely.     "  Keep  it ! " 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  39 

He  thrust  his  pistol  into  his  pocket.  Without  another 
tvord  he  strode  heavily  out  of  the  room,  leaving  Casey 
Btaring  blankly  at  the  money  so  strangely  relinquished, 
and  the  others  standing  petrified  under  the  yellow  gas-jets 
gazing  after  the  receding  figure  that  marched  through  the 
shadowy  vagueness  of  the  dimly  lighted  hall  without. 

When  he  was  fairly  gone  Meredith  turned  to  Casey. 
The  sharper  had  before  hardly  seemed  able  to  breathe. 
He  was  on  his  feet  now  and  ready  to  walk.  His  god 
was  good  to  him.  The  touch  of  it  had  made  him 
whole. 

"I  have  never  before  had  occasion,"  said  Meredith, 
sternly,  "  to  show  a  man  the  door."  He  waved  his  hand 
toward  it. 

The  hardened  creature  insolently  lifted  his  cold,  fishy 
eye  and  grinned.  His  plethoric  pocket-book  was  over 
flowing  in  his  hands ;  he  tucked  the  other  bills  into  the 
pockets  of  his  respectable,  commercial-looking  waist 
coat. 

"  Sorry  to  have  any  disagreement,  I  'm  sure.  Your 
friend  is  a  little  too  choleric  —  apt  to  be  the  fault  of 
military  men.  I  have  to  thank  you  for  a  most  delightful 
evening.  I  '11  come  again  soon.  Bye-bye,  West !  " 

He  bowed  and  grinned  and  grimaced  at  the  door. 
Meredith  was  scarlet  with  indignation.  Tom  West  thrust 
his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  turned  sheepishly  away. 
Brennett  flung  himself  against  the  mantel-piece  and 
laughed  with  an  intense  enjoyment  so  chilling,  so  derisive, 
BO  repellant  in  its  quality  that  Casey  paused  in  the  hall 
and  glanced  back  through  the  open  door  in  surprise  and 
a  \  ague  distrust.  Meredith  saw  among  the  shadows  his 
white,  heavy-jawed  face,  from  which  the  smile  had  faded 
in  an  expression  of  inexplicable  wonder,  of  fear.  Then 
he  turned  once  more  and  disappeared. 


40  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT. 

Meredith  hastily  handed  Brennett  his  memoranda  and, 
with  a  promise  to  return  in  a  few  moments,  started  toward 
the  door. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  West  demanded  inquisi 
tively. 

"To  look  up  Captain  Estwicke,"  Meredith  replied, 
curtly. 

The  "elevator  boy"  knew  the  number  of  Estwicke's 
room  on  the  transient  floor  by  reason  of  having  had  the 
key  left  with  him  during  the  evening.  Estwicke  had 
hardly  entered  and  closed  the  door  when  Meredith 
knocked.  He  looked  around  with  a  flushed  face  as  the 
young  lawyer  came  in. 

"  I  hope  you  will  remember  how  that  blackguard  was 
forced  upon  me,"  Meredith  began,  hotly.  "  I  don't  usually 
consort  with  cheats.  I  am  not  responsible  for  your  meet 
ing  such  company  in  my  room." 

Estwicke  gave  a  bitter  laugh. 

"  What  does  it  matter  to  me  where  I  met  him  ?  " 

"  It  matters  to  me,"  said  Meredith,  tersely. 

Estwicke  was  tramping  back  and  forth  the  length  of 
the  room. 

"  I  thought  I  had  given  that  thing  up ! "  he  cried  in  a 
tumult  of  despair.  "I  have  n't  touched  a  card  for  years. 
I  can't  play  in  moderation.  I  can't,  you  see.  I  go  wild 
— wild !  It's  an  hereditary  passion." 

Meredith  was  a  lawyer,  and  an  acute  one.  He  changed 
his  base  with  a  celerity  that  did  infinite  credit  to  his 
acumen.  Estwicke  was  taking  himself  to  task  —  not  his 
entertainer.  He  briskly  joined  the  onslaught. 

"Oh  hereditary!"  he  sneered.  "I  have  often  noticed 
that  a  man  credits  his  father  with  his  own  pet  vices. 
What  was  the  reason  you  let  the  rascal  have  the 
money  ?  " 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  41 

"  I  had  no  reason  —  no  positive  idea ;  it  was  only  an 
impulse,"  said  Estwicke.  "Somehow  when  I  got  it  — 
I  —  could  n't  touch  it.  That  I  should  brawl  with  a  fellow 
like  that  for  money !  But  why  not  ? "  he  added  after  a 
sullen  pause.  "  He  is  as  good  as  I  am  —  that  is,  I  am  as 
bad  as  he  is." 

"  Bless  me ! "  exclaimed  Meredith,  satirically,  «  I 
would  n't  say  that" 

"  I  know  better.    He  does  n't." 

"  But  some  of  it  was  yours  on  the  strictest  moral  con 
struction." 

Estwicke  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  staring  at 
his  visitor. 

"I  mean  the  money  you  originally  bet,"  Meredith 
explained. 

This  was  a  distinction  that  Estwicke  could  not  grasp. 
"It  was  all  mine!"  he  bawled.  "My  —  full  —  raked  — 
the  —  pool ! "  He  came  hastily  and  sat  down  in  the  green- 
rep  arm-chair,  expounding  how  the  game  stood,  checking 
off  his  cards  and  Casey's  on  the  fingers  of  his  right  and 
left  hands  respectively.  His  excited  words  in  their 
confused  haste  stumbled  and  tripped  up  over  each  other 
in  his  throat;  his  eyes  were  eager  and  earnest;  he 
trembled  with  the  intensity  of  his  interest.  Even  the 
wordy  lawyer  could  not  interrupt. 

"Well,"  he  said,  when  Estwicke  had  concluded,  "I 
knew  all  that  before  —  and  it's  a  nice  business.  You  told 
me  once  that  you  have  nothing  but  your  pay.  I  should 
think,"  he  continued,  exasperatingly,  "this  night's  work 
would  make  a  considerable  hole  in  it.  I  hope  you  feel 
that  you  have  invested  your  time  and  money  to  the  best 
advantage,." 

"  Oh,  I  got  disgusted  with  the  money.  I  could  n't 
endure  to  keep  step,  morally,  you  know,  with  that  con- 


42  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

temptible,  poor  devil.     I  tell  you  he  looked  at  the  money 
with  tears  in  his  eyes." 

Meredith  stared. 

"This  is  rather  a  belated  sympathy  with  the  'poor 
devil,' "  he  said,  sarcastically.  "  Captain  Estwicke,"  he 
continued,  "  I  don't  pretend  to  understand  you,  but  I  feel 
it  almost  a  duty  to  tell  you  how  heartily  I  disapprove  of 
your  conduct  to-night.  Pistoling  a  man  at  a  card-table 
for  cheating  is  a  practically  unprovoked,  cruel  and  abhor 
rent  crime." 

"  Did  n't  do  it,"  said  Estwicke,  grimly,  on  the  defensive. 

"You  would  have  done  it — if  he  had  not  instantly 
yielded." 

"  Ha-a-rdly,"  drawled  Estwicke.  The  tone  was  signifi 
cant.  Meredith  looked  at  him  expectantly.  Estwicke 
glanced  uneasily  up  at  the  ceiling,  then  down  at  his 
boots.  As  he  turned  doubtfully  toward  Meredith  their 
eyes  met,  and  he  broke  into  an  uproarious  peal  of 
laughter. 

"  Why,  man  !  "  he  cried,  hilariously,  "  the  pistol  was  n't 
loaded!" 

He  drew  the  weapon  from  his  pocket  and  held  it  at 
arm's  length,  revolving  its  empty  chambers,  and  setting 
the  walls  to  echoing  its  sharp  click. 

Meredith  laughed,  too,  partly  in  sympathy  with  the 
other's  boisterous  enjoyment  of  what  he  considered  so 
exquisitely  flavored  a  joke  and  partly  in  relief.  "I'm 
glad  you  let  me  know  this,"  he  declared.  "  Forget  what 
I  said  when  I  did  n't  know  it."  Presently  he  added  with 
a  view  of  contingencies  of  which  Estwicke  seemed  utterly 
incapable  — "  But  suppose  that  that  fellow  had  persisted 
in  heaving  up  the  thing  he  had  in  his  pocket  ?  " 

"  Oh,  but  I  was  sure  he  would  n't.  Moral  suasion,  you 
know.  There's  a  wonderful  deal  of  moral  suasion  in 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  48 

giving  a  man  a  peep  down  an  iron  tube.  It  puts  the 
best  of  us  out  oi  countenance."  After  a  pause  he  said, 
gravely,  —  "  Nothing  would  have  induced  me  to  hurt  the 
man  —  besides,  I  couldn't.  All  I  wanted  was  my  own 
money." 

"  And  you  did  n't  want  that  little  long." 

"I  feel  like  the  devil,"  said  Estwicke,  impatiently. 
"  I  'm  so  much  like  the  devil  to-night  that  I  don't  know 
us  apart." 

"  Well,"  persisted  Meredith,  "  you  've  given  us  a  fine 
sensation.  I  never  saw  a  man  so  entertained  as  that  fel 
low,  Brennett." 

"I  don't  care  to  set  up  as  a  show,"  said  Estwicke, 
sulkily. 

"  A  cat  may  look  at  a  king." 

"  I  doubt  if  it  is  altogether  safe  for  the  cat." 

"  In  the  light  of  late  events,  I  certainly  should  not  take 
the  liberty  if  I  were  a  cat,"  said  Meredith,  with  a  laugh. 

"  He  is  not  a  cat,"  rejoined  Estwicke,  with  that  sudden 
insight  into  character  which  was  so  marked  a  quality  of 
his  mind.  "  He  has  a  hawk's  face  and  a  hawk's  eyes  — 
the  most  startlingly  brilliant  eyes  I  ever  saw.  I  never 
met  a  human  hawk  before  —  though  I  've  known  human 
wolves,  and  monkeys,  and  dogs,  and  cats.  We  don't 
want  to  claim  kin  with  our  poor  relations.  But  some  of 
us  can't  help  ourselves.  We  will  look  like  'em,  and 
sometimes  we  will  behave  like  'em."  He  stretched  out 
his  legs  to  the  fire,  and  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
"  I  'm  misanthropic,  ain't  I  ? "  He  glanced  up  with  a 
laugh.  After  a  pause  he  asked — "What's  his  busi 
ness?" 

"  Getting  rich." 

"I  could  have  guessed  as  much,"  declared  Estwicke. 
"  That  man  has  his  soul  in  his  pocket.  And  his  pocket 


44  WHEBE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

doesn't  bulge.  Such  a  soul  as  that  won't  crowd 
things." 

"Don't  know  about  his  soul,  but  he  certainly  has  an 
instinct  for  money.  He  speculates  heavily  in  cotton 
futures.  And  he  owns  a  half  interest  in  a  mine  out  west 
that  they  used  to  say  was  as  good  as  a  mint." 

The  young  lawyer  had  risen  to  take  leave.  With  an 
almost  affectionate  impulse  he  paused  at  the  door. 
"  Estwicke,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  tell  you  —  you  're  a 
good  fellow." 

"  That  I  am,"  said  Estwicke,  mockingly,  "  I  'm  mighty 
good." 

He  looked  about  him  wearily,  with  a  haggard,  hunted 
face  after  the  door  had  closed.  Then  suddenly  he  rang 
the  bell,  called  for  his  bill,  packed  his  traps  dexterously, 
methodically,  and  in  surprisingly  small  compass  —  one  of 
his  military  accomplishments  —  and  the  full  moon  was 
hardly  swinging  past  the  meridian  before  he  was  bowling 
swiftly  along  the  turnpike  among  the  hills  that  encom 
passed  the  city.  Through  the  carriage  windows  he  saw 
it  lying  behind  him  in  many  an  undulation,  its  domes  and 
its  mansard  roofs  idealized  in  the  glamour  and  the  dis 
tance  to  a  castellated  splendor.  It  had  faded  away  in  the 
dusky  shadows  long  before  he  caught  sight  of  the  white- 
framed  barrack  buildings.  His  heart  warmed  at  the 
thought  of  his  friends  so  close  at  hand,  of  the  familiar 
surroundings,  and  the  old  routine.  He  saw  the  sentry's 
bayonet  glisten  in  the  moonlight,  and  catch  on  its  point  a 
star  of  fire.  And  the  evening  and  the  scene  he  had  left 
ilipped  into  the  dark  corners  of  his  recollection. 


CHAPTER  III. 

HIS  image,  however,  remained  importunately  pres 
ent  with  the  man  whom  he  had  characterized  as  a 
"  hawk."  In  the  days  that  ensued,  it  intruded  between 
Maurice  Brennett  and  many  an  abstruse  commercial  cal 
culation,  with  which  it  was  devoid  of  analogy  in  any  par 
ticular.  He  became  conscious,  with  a  sharp  surprise,  of 
the  dereliction  of  his  trained  and  tutored  attention.  Even 
then  he  admitted  to  himself  that  this  was  strange,  although 
he  argued  plausibly  that  it  was  but  the  lingering  impres 
sion  of  a  startlingly  unexpected  episode  and  a  notable 
face. 

Long  afterward,  in  the  light  of  subsequent  events,  he 
remembered  this.  And  then  he  called  it  a  presentiment 
—  this  man  of  facts  and  figures ! 

One  night  while  it  still  harassed  him,  he  chanced  to 
come  in  late  from  the  deserted  streets.  The  rotunda  of 
the  hotel  was  deserted  too,  and  so  quiet  that  he  could 
hear  in  the  distance  the  carriage,  which  he  had  left,  roll 
ing  away  with  a  dull  monotonous  whir  over  the  Nicholson 
pavement.  A  solitary  night-clerk  languished  behind  the 
counter.  The  water  was  motionless  in  the  basin  of  the 
fountain.  A  single  gas-jet  served  to  accent  the  darkness 
and  dreariness  of  the  scene,  bereft  of  its  wonted  anima 
tion.  The  shadows  clung  thick  about  the  great  pillars, 
and  as  he  walked  slowly  and  listlessly  among  them,  he 
a  grave,  pondering,  baffled  aspect.  His  hat  was 

45 


46  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT. 

pulled  far  over  his  brow,  and  his  hands  were  sunk  deep, 
with  a  certain  surliness  of  gesture,  in  his  trousers'  pockets. 
His  overcoat  hung  loosely  on  his  shoulders,  giving  glimpses 
of  his  dress-suit  beneath  it,  and  of  a  half  crushed  flower 
in  his  button-hole.  These  exponents  of  recent  participa 
tion  in  some  genial  festivity,  were  at  this  moment  curiously 
at  variance  with  his  face,  in  which  there  was  so  marked 
an  expression  of  keen  intensity,  and  so  strong,  though 
subtle,  a  suggestion  of  latent  rapacity,  that  it  fully  justi 
fied  Captain  Estwicke's  descriptive  phrase,  "a  hawk's 
face."  His  peculiarly  brilliant  eyes  —  so  bright  even  in 
the  checkered  glooms  —  were  downcast.  They  held  an 
intimation  of  a  deep  dejection  of  spirit. 

So  he,  too,  had  his  hopes  deferred  —  his  far  off  Canaan ! 
He,  too,  had  some  vital  part  that  could  be  called  a  heart, 
where  at  least  wounds  might  rankle,  and  disappointments 
chill.  But  once  admit  that  idea  of  a  latent  rapacity,  and 
he  seemed  an  unpleasant  transformation  of  a  man  into  a 
creature  of  prey. 

He  paused  when  he  reached  the  counter,  and  as  he 
glanced  over  the  register,  his  eyes  suddenly  dilated  with 
eager  intentness.  His  hand  was  poised,  quivering  over  a 
certain  scrawling  autograph. 

"When  did  Mr.  Travis  arrive?"  he  asked  sharply  of 
the  clerk. 

"  Ten  minutes  ago,"  replied  the  impassive  functionary. 

Brennett  hastily  noted  the  number  of  the  room,  turned 
from  the  counter,  and  took  his  way  swiftly  up  the  stairs 
and  through  the  dim  twilight  of  the  long  halls.  Above 
the  row  of  doors  on  either  hand,  only  one  transom  was 
still  alight.  He  knocked  with  loud  impatience,  and  he 
trembled  with  suspense,  while  the  key  was  turned  within. 

"  Hello  !  unexpected  pleasure !  "  exclaimed  the  occu 
pant  of  the  room,  opening  the  door  and  seeking  to  sup- 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS    FOUGHT.  47 

press  a  mighty  yawn.  "  You  are  quick  on  the  trigger. 
How  did  you  find  out  that  I  was  in  town  ?" 

Brennett  made  no  reply.  He  was  even  more  excited 
when  they  were  shut  in  together.  He  tossed  aside  his 
overcoat  and  hat  as  if  he  were  stifling,  threw  himself  into 
a  chair,  and  in  hastily  drawing  off  his  light  kid  gloves,  he 
wantonly  tore  them  bit  from  bit  with  gestures  that  were 
most  unpleasantly  like  his  cousin,  the  feathered  hawk, 
whom  he  so  closely  resembled.  Though  the  meeting  was 
fraught  with  a  deep  significance,  there  were  no  indications 
of  the  fact  in  Travis's  unruffled  demeanor,  except  that  he 
now  and  then  looked  uneasily  at  his  friend,  as  if  in  depre 
cation  of  this  intensity  of  impatience  and  eagerness.  His 
eyes  were  blue,  finely  set,  and  contemplative ;  his  hair  was 
of  an  equivocal  shade,  called  golden  by  his  feminine  ac 
quaintance,  and  sandy  by  his  men  friends  ;  a  very  recent 
railway  journey  was  suggested  by  the  cinders  on  his  beard. 
He  was  half  undressed ;  his  throat  was  bare ;  he  had  taken 
off  his  coat  and  vest,  and  they  hung  on  the  back  of  the 
chair  where  he  sat  thrusting  his  feet  into  a  pair  of  slippers. 
He  was  tall,  handsomely  proportioned,  and  was  popularly 
supposed  to  run  on  his  looks.  By  virtue  of  his  prepossess 
ing  exterior,  aided  by  a  singularly  quiet  and  gentlemanly 
manner,  he  retained  his  hold  on  well-regulated  society, 
and  fostered  a  prevalent  scepticism  as  to  stories  of  ex 
travagant  dissipation  told  about  him.  Although  far  from 
being  intellectual,  he  had  a  habit  of  putting  plain  sensible 
ideas  into  unpretentious  language,  which  gave  casual  ob 
servers  the  impression  that  he  was  a  shrewd  practical  fel 
low  with  solid  views.  He  presented  the  anomaly  of  a  man 
credited  with  acumen  by  his  general  acquaintance,  and 
pronounced  a  fool  by  his  intimates. 

"  You  received  my  telegram  ?  "  he  drawled,  as  he  rose 
to  his  feet  and  stood  leaning  against  the  mantel-piece. 


48  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

44  Rather  enigmatical  it  was  —  I  did  not  understand  it." 

Brennett's  tone  was  acrid,  and  Travis  replied  as  to  a 
reproach. 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  could  have  made  it  more  explicit, 
considering  the  circumstances.  I  said,  'It  has  all  gone 
wrong.' " 

"  How  has  it  gone  wrong  ?  " 

"  You  know  she  died  in  London  more  than  a  month  ago, 
and  I  started  soon  afterward  for  New  York.  Her  will  — 
you  remember  I  gave  you  a  copy  of  it  — -  well,  when  I 
reached  New  York,  I  found  there  was  a  codicil  of  which 
I  had  before  known  nothing.  It  changed  the  former  dis 
position  of  her  property.  She  left  everything  available 
for  our  purposes  away  from  me.  I  telegraphed  you  as 
soon  as  I  discovered  it." 

Brennett  fixed  his  eyes,  sullen  and  lowering,  though 
never  losing  that  quality  of  searching  brilliancy,  upon  his 
friend,  and  replied  not  a  word. 

The  silence  shook  Travis's  equilibrium. 

"  Say  something,  Brennett,"  he  cried  angrily.  "  There's 
no  use  in  jay-hawking  me.  You  seem  to  hold  me  respon 
sible  for  your  disappointment,  while  I  —  why  this  thing 
is  my  ruin  !  I  have  sunk  in  that  mine  every  cent  I  could 
take  and  scrape  for  years.  Give  over  the  luxury  of  stamp 
ing  on  me,  and  stir  your  wits  to  see  if  anything  can  help 
us  now  —  or  " —  with  anxious  doubt  — : "  do  you  throw  up 
your  hand  ?  " 

Brennett  still  said  nothing,  and  Travis  with  an  impa 
tient  gesture  shifted  his  position,  leaning  more  heavily  on 
the  mantel-piece,  and  struck  a  match  for  his  cigar. 

By  a  dexterous  use  of  the  system  known  as  "  freezing 
out,"  the  two  had  become  exclusive  owners  of  a  certain 
silver  mine  in  Colorado.  But  after  a  time  it  had  seemed 
that  the  biters  were  bitten.  The  yield  grew  meagre,  the 


WHEKE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  49 

expenses  continued,  their  perseverance  had  only  brought 
them  largely  into  debt,  and  now  their  liabilities  had 
swollen  like  a  gigantic  boa-constrictor.  Ruin  was  :lose 
upon  them,  when  suddenly  brighter  prospects  opened.  If 
Ihey  could  retain  the  mine  now  they  thought  it  would 
he  worth  millions  to  them,  but  their  necessities  were 
immediate.  A  large  sum  must  be  raised  within  the  next 
few  months  or  the  property,  with  all  its  inchoate  wealth, 
would  be  sacrificed,  possibly  for  the  merest  fraction  of  its 
value,  —  possibly  only  for  the  amount  of  the  debts. 

Travis  had  looked  for  extrication  to  the  estate  of  his 
widowed  and  childless  sister,  who  had  been  in  a  dying 
condition  for  months,  and  the  result  seemed  only  to 
demonstrate  the  long-conceded  futility  of  waiting  for  the 
shoes  of  the  dead. 

"  I  tell  you,  Brennett,"  he  said  presently,  sheltering 
with  his  hand  the  feeble  flicker  of  the  match  from  some 
draught  that  stole  shivering  in,  "this  thing  came  upon 
me  like  a  thunder-clap.  She  had  intimated  so  often  — 
she  had  virtually  promised  me  those  houses.  They  are 
equivalent  to  cash,  as  you  know  —  could  be  converted  at 
a  moment." 

"  And  what  do  you  get  ?  "  asked  Brennett,  with  a  vora 
cious  look. 

"  The  Arkansas  plantations  —  a  drug  on  the  market." 

"  You  are  to  blame,"  Brennett  interjected  sharply. 

"You  can  always  prove  that  —  to  your  own  satisfac 
tion,"  said  Travis,  with  a  sneer,  which  might  have  pointed 
a  more  pungent  sarcasm.  He  threw  himself  back  in  his 
chair  with  an  air  of  bracing  himself  for  endurance. 

"  We  should  have  taken  some  account  of  Mrs.  Perrier's 
stand-point  —  we  ought  to  have  managed  so  as  to  give 
her  a  different  view.  I  suppose,"  Brennett  pursued,  im 
pelled  rather  by  an  incisive  mental  habit  of  stripping 


50  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

facts  bare,  than  by  a  definite  purpose,  "I  suppose  her 
idea  was  that  the  plantations  would  give  you  a  com 
fortable  income  always,  and  would  be  likely  to  stay 
by  you  —  as  nobody  will  buy  them  now-a-days^  nor  lend 
money  on  them.  She  intended  to  protect  you  against 
your  own  imprudence  in  speculation,  perhaps  —  or  your 
gambling  proclivities." 

Travis  eyed  his  cigar  sourly,  while  he  flipped  off  the 
ash  with  his  delicate  fourth  finger. 

"How  obvious!"  cried  Brennett.  "And  I  never 
thought  of  it  before !  Yet  I  knew  she  had  strong  objec 
tions  to  your  habits." 

"Laura  was  religious,  you  know."  Travis  suggested 
this  as  if  it  were  a  disease,  which  had  impaired  her 
judgment,  and  was  therefore  a  plea  in  extenuation  of 
her  weakness.  "  She  was  really  very  fond  of  me.  She 
cared  for  nobody  else,  and  I  have  no  doubt  the  pro 
visions  of  this  codicil  surprised  Antoinette  beyond  mea 
sure." 

"  Antoinette !  What  the  devil  are  you  talking  about?" 
demanded  Brennett,  impatiently,  rousing  himself  from 
his  absorption. 

"  I  am  talking,"  said  Travis,  with  an  elaborate  show  of 
placidity,  "  about  my  step-sister,  Antoinette  St.  Pierre,  to 
whom  Laura  left  the  property  which  I  expected  to 
receive." 

"  I  never  before  heard  of  her,"  said  Brennett,  sternly. 
"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  that  there  was  some  one  likely 
to  share  with  you  Mrs.  Perrier's  estate  ?  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Travis,  with  a  debonair  wave 
of  the  hand,  "my  friends  urge  against  me  that  I  am 
indolent,  but  I  have  never  been  given  over  to  such  an 
abandonment  of  idleness  as  to  have  nothing  better  to  do 
than  to  talk  about  Antoinette  St.  Pierre." 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  51 

Breunett,  goaded  though  he  was,  made  some  concession 
to  the  displeasure  which  expressed  itself  in  this  frivolous 
affectation. 

"  Well  —  tell  me  about  her  now,  and  how  it  happened 
that  Mrs.  Perrier  gave  her  that  valuable  property  at  your 
expense  ?  " 

"  Why,  she  is  the  same  relation  to  Laura  that  I  am. 
You  see,  my  father  married  a  second  time,  and  so  it  came 
about  that  Laura  is  my  half-sister.  After  his  death  his 
widow  also  married  again,  and  Antoinette  is  the  child  of 
that  marriage.  So  Laura  is  the  half-sister  of  each  of  us, 
although  Antoinette  is  no  relation  whatever  to  me  — 
merely  a  step-sister.  Make  it  out?"  he  asked,  knitting 
his  brows,  as  if  he  had  propounded  some  dark  conun 
drum. 

"  Of  course  —  how  can  I  help  making  it  out  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Travis,  lightly,  "  it  is  a  relationship  that 
gets  away  with  most  people." 

Then  he  pulled  calmly  at  his  cigar. 

"  And  you  never  told  me  this  before !  "  exclaimed 
Brennett,  desperately.  "And  this  girl  had  the  same 
claim  exactly  on  Mrs.  Perrier  that  you  had." 

"  But  Mrs.  Perrier  had  promised,"  interrupted  Travis. 
"  She  had  written  and  signed  her  will." 

"  It  is  hard  —  hard ! "  cried  Brennett,  springing  up  and 
walking  nervously  back  and  forth,  —  "that  in  a  matter 
like  this  I  should  have  such  a  coadjutor,  who  doltishly 
keeps  me  in  ignorance  " — 

"I  am  beholden  to  you,"  drawled  Travis,  airily,  caress- 
;ng  his  straw-colored  beard,  with  a  gentle  gesture,  as  he 
watched,  with  a  smiling  face  and  incongruously  fierce 
eyes,  his  friend's  movements. 

In  a  juncture  like  this  he  carried  more  weight  than 
might  be  argued  from  his  limited  mental  capacity.  Bren- 


52  WHEBE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

nett  had  found  him  and  his  resources  convenient  in  more 
ways  than  one,  and  it  was  not  yet  conclusively  demon 
strated  that  this  usefulness  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 

"  You  must  overlook  something,  Travis,"  he  said,  as  a 
reluctant  retraction.  "But  I  ought  to  have  been  fully 
informed." 

Travis  readily  accepted  the  amende,  for  this  matter  of 
usefulness  was  mutual.  He  was  one  of  those  fools  who 
are  sub-acutely  aware  of  the  fact.  Not  that  he  depre 
cated  it ;  he  would  have  found  a  ponderous  brain  merely  a 
dead  weight  in  those  giddy  and  lightsome  scenes  which 
made  up  to  him  the  pleasure  and  the  worth  of  existence. 
He  preferred  to  exert  judgment  and  foresight  by  proxy, 
and  he  experienced  unfailing  satisfaction  in  the  fact  that 
his  interests  were  indissolubly  interwoven  with  those  of 
Maurice  Brennett,  whose  acumen  had  been  attested  by 
success. 

"How  could  I  imagine  that  Antoinette  was  to  come 
into  our  plans  ?  What  could  I  have  told  you  —  that  she 
is  an  interesting  orphan,  twenty-three  years  of  age  —  and 
incidentally  the  color  of  her  hair  and  eyes  ?  " 

"  Where  is  she  now  ?  " 

"  She  has  just  come  to  Tennessee  on  a  visit  to  General 
Vayne's  family,  up  there  in  the  country  somewhere," 
with  a  vague  backward  nod  of  the  head.  "  She  has  a  lot 
of  friends  in  that  neighborhood,  and  sometimes  visits 
among  them  for  months." 

"  Where  has  she  been  all  this  time  ?  "  asked  Brennett. 

"  She  has  lived  with  her  father's  mother,  in  a  rented 
louse  three  miles  from  New  Orleans,  until  about  six 
months  ago,  when  the  old  lady  died  —  in  the  nick  of  time» 
too,"  added  Travis,  unfeelingly,  "  for  the  mortgages  on  her 
Mississippi  plantation,  which  she  had  been  fighting  off  for 
the  last  ten  years,  had  just  been  foreclosed.  So  you 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  53 

gee  she  left  Antoinette  nothing.  Old  Mrs.  St.  Pierre's 
death  was  the  reason  that  Laura  wanted  to  return  from 
Europe.  She  intended  to  take  a  house  in  town  this 
winter  and  have  Antoinette  with  her.  I  don't  know  why 
you  never  heard  of  Antoinette,  unless  it  is  because  she  i? 
rather  an  unimportant  little  body." 

Brennctt  came  back  and  sat  down  in  front  of  the  fire. 
Travis  watched  him  vacantly  for  a  few  moments.  Then  he 
yawned  portentously  and  shifted  his  position.  Certainly  he 
had  had  time  to  recover  somewhat  from  the  first  poignant 
anguish  of  disappointment,  but  few  men  with  interests  of 
magnitude  at  stake  could  so  readily  detach  the  mind  and 
so  trivially  catch  at  trifles.  He  glanced  about  the  room 
with  its  stereotyped  hotel  furnishing;  then  he  fell  to 
gazing  at  the  uncertain  flickering  of  the  gas-jet. 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  suppose  is  the  matter  with  the 
meter?"  he  suggested,  lazily. 

Brennett  sat  silent  and  absorbed.  Presently  Travis 
yawned  again,  and  broke  forth  suddenly  — 

"Oh,  I  say  —  its  getting  on  to  two  o'clock.  And, 
my  dear  fellow,  I  am  fagged  out.  I  've  been  travelling 
for  two  days.  I  can't  get  hold  of  my  faculties  for  a 
midnight  consultation  like  this.  Let's  adjourn  till  to 
morrow." 

Perhaps  Brennett  had  scant  regard  for  the  eificacy 
of  these  faculties  when  got  hold  of.  Still  silent  and  ab 
sorbed  he  made  no  motion.  It  had  begun  to  rain,  and 
!he  wind  was  rising.  Heavy  gusts  dashed  against  the 
window,  and  in  the  intervals  one  might  hear  the  drops 
tiickling  drearily  down  the  panes.  They  beat  with  a 
resonant  clamor  on  the  tin-covered  roof  of  some  portico 
near  at  hand.  The  sound  was  chilly  and  cheerless,  and 
after  once  more  observing  Brennett's  impassive  attitude, 
Travis  rose  and  re-dressed  himself  completely,  with  a 


54  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

resigned  deliberation  of  gesture ;  then  languidly  resumed 
his  chair. 

"  Well,  since  you  are  determined  to  talk  it  out  now  I 
have  only  to  say  that  I  think  we  have  come  to  the  financial 
jumping-off  place.  Can't  you  suggest  anything  except 
unavailing  regrets  that  you  did  n't  know  about  Antoin 
ette?" 

"  I  can  suggest  a  sure  way  to  command  that  money," 
returned  Brennett,  taking  his  cigar  from  his  lips,  and 
glancing  keenly  though  furtively  at  his  friend. 

"  How  ?  "  demanded  Travis,  excitedly. 

"  A  sure  way,"  reiterated  Brennett. 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Travis  again. 

"  Marry  her,"  said  Brennett,  coolly,  replacing  his  cigar. 
"  Marry  her." 

Travis  looked  at  him  in  silence. 

"  Well,"  said  Brennett,  impatiently,  "  what  have  you  to 
say  to  it  ?  " 

"  Got  nothing  to  say  to  it,"  replied  Travis,  shortly. 

And  again  the  man  who  managed  him  as  one  manages 
a  restive  horse  was  fain  to  concede  the  point,  and  give 
him  his  head. 

"  Well,  see  here,"  said  Brennett,  presently,  "  the  divi 
sion  which  Mrs.  Perrier  made  is,  except  in  the  matter  of 
convertibility,  largely  in  your  favor.  Suppose  you  try 
to  persuade  Miss  St.  Pierre  to  exchange  the  houses  for 
your  plantations.  Represent  to  her " 

"You  can't  represent  anything  to  Antoinette.  I  tell 
you  she  is  sharp,  sharp  as  you  yourself  —  and  very  sus 
picious.  If  you  knew  her  you  would  appreciate  that  you 
can't  represent  things  to  her." 

"  In  some  respects  the  exchange  would  really  be  to  her 
advantage.  The  rents  of  those  houses  are  an  inconsidep 
able  per  cent  upon  the  value  of  the  property  in  comparison 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  55 

with  the  income  of  the  plantations  and  their  market  value. 
She  would  give  her  houses  to  you  at  the  maximum  valua 
tion  and  take  your  lands  at  the  minimum.  She  would 
exchange  a  small  income-bearing  property  for  a  large 
income-bearing  property.  Don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  Ye-es,"  Travis  assented,  dubiously.  "  Perhaps.  But 
there  are  the  labor  questions,  and  the  unsettled  state  of 
the  country,  and  the  low  price  of  cotton.  And,  Brennett, 
—  you  don't  know  Antoinette !  " 

"  There  is  another  possibility  that  she  might  be  induced 
to  make  this  exchange.  Her  title  —  Mrs.  Perrier's  title 
to  those  houses  is  not  indefeasible." 

Travis  turned  with  a  stare  of  blank  amazement.  He 
took  instant  fright.  "Then  God  knows,"  he  cried  fer 
vently,  "7"  don't  want  them.  I  won't  exchange." 

"  You  were  so  certain  that  your  sister  would  leave  you 
that  property,  that  I  thought  it  worth  while  to  have  the 
title  looked  into,  in  view  of  a  speedy  sale." 

"And  what's  the  matter  with  it?"  asked  Travis  anx 
iously,  vaguely  aware  that  his  friend  had  some  intention 
shuffling  behind  all  this,  but  as  yet  utterly  unable  to 
"  spot  it." 

"Why,  Clarence  Clendinning,  the  man  who  fraudu 
lently  sold  to  Mrs.  Perrier,  purporting  to  convey  in  fee, 
was  only  a  tenant  per  autre  vie,  and  at  the  period  of  this 
sale  this  life  estate  was  just  terminated.  Thereafter  he 
could  be  regarded  only  as  a  tenant  at  sufferance.  So  you 
see  she  bought  literally  nothing,  and  all  this  time  she  has 
been  liable  to  be  ejected  at  any  day  by  the  remainder 
man." 

"And  who  the  devil  is  the  remainder-man?" 

"  His  name  is  John  Doane  Fortescue." 

"  John  Doanc  Fortescue  ?  " 

Rrennett  assented 


56  WHEBE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

"Hm-m,"  said  Travis,  meditatively.  "I  have  nevel 
seen  him,  but  I  know  who  he  is.  Antoinette  is  related  to 
him.  They  are  cousins  —  distant  —  but  I  should  say  she 
is  about  the  nearest  relation  he  has,  for  he  is  the  last  of 
his  family."  He  thought  it  over  silently  for  a  moment. 
"This  whole  affair  seems  to  me  very  queer,"  he  sug 
gested. 

"Not  so  queer,  after  all,"  said  Brennett.  "The  way 
of  it  is  this,  —  John  Fortescue's  grandfather,  who  first 
owned  the  property,  was  pressed  for  a  large  sum  of  money 
—  more  than  he  could  raise  by  mortgages  —  and  as  he 
had  always  intended  to  will  it  to  his  grandson  he  did  not 
wish  to  alienate  it  absolutely.  So  he  granted  to  Clen- 
dinning  an  estate  in  it  per  autre  vie,  remainder  to  John 
Fortescue  in  fee.  This  estate  per  autre  vie  was  limited 
to  the  life  of  James  Murray,  who  was  then  a  young 
man  and  only  died  in  April,  1857.  The  same  year 
and  month  Clendinning  —  I  suppose  he  had  expected  his 
tenancy  to  last  longer,  and  wanted  to  make  more  out  of 
it  —  sold  the  property  to  Mrs.  Perrier  for  a  good  big 
price." 

Travis  turned  upon  him  a  face  of  smiling  triumph. 
4  1857!  That  lets  us  out,"  he  remarked,  cheerfully. 
"The  remainder-man's  remedy  is  barred.  I  happen 
to  know  that  here  the  statute  of  limitations  allows 
only  seven  years  next,  after  the  right  of  action  first 
accrues,  for  the  institution  of  proceedings  to  recover  real 
estate." 

"  I  talked  to  the  lawyer  about  that,"  said  Brennett. 
"  It  seems  that  in  Tennessee  an  intermission  or  sort  of 
suspension  has  been  prescribed,  in  view  of  the  disorgani 
zation  caused  by  the  war,  during  which  no  statute  of 
limitations  can  be  held  to  have  operated.  This  period 
extends  from  the  sixth  of  May,  1861,  to  the  first  of 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  57 

January,  1867  —  something  more  than  five  years  to  be 
added  to  the  original  seven." 

"Throw  in  your  suspension,"  said  Travis,  liberally. 
"Can  you  count,  Brennett?  —  can  you  count?  Seven 
years  and  your  suspension  —  eh  ?  We  're  in  1871." 

"  But,"  persisted  Brennett,  pressing  the  point,  "  the 
statute  doesn't  run  against  some  people.  There  are 
minors,  you  know,  and  married  women,  persons  c  beyond 
the  seas,'  or  non  compos  mentis  —  all  of  these  have  three 
years  next  after  the  disability  is  removed  to  bring  suit. 
The  remainder-man  may  set  up  a  disability  and  recover 
the  property  at  any  time  within  the  next  ten,  twenty, 
thirty  years." 

"  Ah,  but  Brennett,  that  is  a  very  remote  possibility." 

"  It  is  probable  enough,"  Brennett  declared,  with  a 
weighty  significance  of  manner,  "to  frighten  Miss  St. 
Pierre." 

Travis  cast  upon  him  a  sudden  glance  of  comprehen 
sion.  "  By  the  Lord,  Maurice,"  he  exclaimed,  "  what  a 
head  you  have !  " 

"  You  must  represent,"  continued  Brennett,  careless 
of  this  tribute,  "that  you  are  willing  to  exchange  your 
solid  lands  for  her  houses,  with  their  shaky  title,  be 
cause  it  is  imperative  for  you  to  have  a  convertible 
property,  and  you  are  therefore  prepared  to  encounter 
some  risk." 

"  And  I  can  say,  too,"  added  Travis,  temporizing  with 
a  certain  pulpy  weakness  which  he  called  his  conscience, 
"  that  the  remainder-man  may  never  appear.  And  I  '11 
say  it,"  he  added  with  a  curious  inconsistency,  "  in  such  a 
way  as  will  make  her  think  he  is  knock,  knock,  knocking 
at  the  door." 

He  gave  a  short,  abrupt  laugh,  impressed  with  the 
humor  of  the  situation.  The  next  moment  he  was  him- 


58  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

self  frightened  by  the  bugbear  conjured  up  for  the  intiini. 
dation  of  Miss  St.  Pierre. 

"  But  suppose  upon  these  representations  she  does  ex 
change  —  and  before  I  have  time  to  do  anything  with  the 
property  up  comes  John  Fortescue,  brisk  and  smiling, 
fresh  from  the  Lunatic  Asylum,  or  he  may  turn  out  to  be 
a  minor,  or  a  married  woman,  or  just  returned  from  cir 
cumnavigating,  or  "  — 

"  All  that  need  not  be  considered  by  us,"  said  Brennett, 
impatiently.  "  The  man  is  dead,  no  doubt,  or  he  would 
never  have  let  this  thing  lie.  In  fact,  I  think  I  have 
heard  that  he  is  dead.  And  I  am  quite  sure,  too,  he  was 
not  married." 

"Never,  so  far  as  I  know,"  rejoined  Travis. 

"  And  so,  no  widow,"  —  said  Brennett,  with  satisfac 
tion —  "and  no  heirs  nearer  than  Miss  St.  Pierre,  her 
self."  Presently  he  added  — 

"It  would  be  a  good  plan  for  you  to  go  to  General 
Vayne's  place,  have  an  interview  with  her,  and  propose 
an  exchange  of  property.  We  can't  manage  it  through 
an  agent,  because  we  don't  care  to  take  any  one  into  our 
confidence." 

Travis's  countenance  fell,  but  he  said  nothing.  There 
was  much  conversation  between  them  not  expressed  in 
vTords  —  hardly  in  reciprocal  glances.  Brennett  replied 
to  the  objection  in  his  face. 

"  So  she  does  n't  like  you,"  he  said,  slowly. 

Travis's  pause  was  impressive. 

"  I  should  think  not,"  he  declared. 

Brennett  knitted  his  brows. 

"  That  is  a  complication.  Can't  you  propitiate  her  — • 
make  her  like  you." 

Travis  for  a  moment  was  dubious,  but  reflective.  Then 
he  glanced  up  with  some  hopefulness.  "  There  is  one 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  59 

way  to  please  her,"  he  said.  "The  very  fact  that  I 
thought  of  it  would  propitiate  her." 

Brennett  turned  toward  him  with  quick  interest. 

"  You  see,"  Travis  explained,  discursively,  "  Laura  left 
her  personalty  to  me,  and  among  her  valuables  is  an  old 
heirloom  of  the  St.  Xantaine  family.  Laura  was  de 
scended  from  the  St.  Xantaines,  you  know." 

Brennett  knew  it.  Everyone  who  had  ever  been  with 
in  speech  of  a  descendant  of  the  St.  Xantaines  knew 
the  fact. 

"  And  so  is  Antoinette,"  continued  Travis.  "  So  you 
see  it  would  be  peculiarly  appropriate  for  me  to  give  this 
old  trinket  to  her.  She  ought  to  have  it,  really.  It  is  a 
very  curious  old  cross  —  diamonds  set  in  silver,  in  the 
shape  of  the  letter  X  —  rather  handsome  diamonds,  but 
nothing  extraordinary.  It  is  not  very  valuable,  intrinsi 
cally." 

Brennett  looked  disappointed. 

"I  tell  you,  Brennett,  the  thing  is  famous,"  persisted 
Travis,  replying  to  the  look  as  the  other  had  done. 
"  She  would  value  it  more  than  something  worth  twenty 
times  as  much.  I  know  her  way.  The  stones  have  a 
history  —  it  may  be  true,  and  it  may  not.  I  have  my 
doubts.  It  is  said  that  they  were  originally  set  in  some 
ornament  given,  ages  ago,  by  royalty  itself,  to  some  inter 
esting  member  of  the  St.  Xantaine  family  —  I  can't  say 
how  many  ages  —  can't  say  what  royalty  —  can't  say 
what  interesting  member  of  the  family."  He  spoke 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  been  nagged  by  these 
mythical  splendors  of  ancestry  which  he  did  not  share. 
"I  have  heard  the  story  often  enough,  but  the  Lord 
knows  I  don't  want  to  burden  my  mind  with  it.  Antoi 
nette,  though,  could  tell  you  all  about  it.  She  would  be 


60  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

immensely  pleased  to  have  it,  and  pleased  with  me  for 
thinking  to  bring  it  to  her." 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Brennett,  decisively.  "  But, 
Travis,  talk  about  the  business  first,  and  bring  in  the 
cross  as  an  afterthought." 

And  upon  this  the  two  parted. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

rTlRAVIS  was  a  man  incapable  of  temporizing  with 
-L  lower  conditions  than  those  of  his  ideal,  and  he  was 
acutely  conscious  upon  arriving  at  Chattalla  that  it  was 
not  the  town  it  ought  to  be.  There  was  something 
fiercely  inconsequent  in  his  criticism,  —  certainly  regarded 
as  the  terminus  of  a  swift  transition  from  London  and 
Paris,  the  dingy  little  village  was,  by  comparison,  no 
where.  But  although  they  did  not  enter  into  his  mental 
estimate  the  great  fundamental  facts  of  humanity  were 
here  —  crowded  upon  this  narrow  stage  were  roaring 
farces,  and  sentimental  melodramas,  and  elements  of  high 
tragedy,  the  actors  all  sublimely  unconscious  of  the  de 
fects  of  the  accessories  and  for  the  most  part  having 
known  nothing  better. 

He  was  constitutionally  dilatory  and  indolent  in  busi 
ness,  but  the  one  o'clock  dinner  served  as  a  stimulant  to 
his  industry,  and  with  the  determination  never  to  eat  an 
other  meal  in  Chattalla  and  to  take  the  train  at  nightfall, 
he  promptly  prepared  to  call  on  Miss  St.  Pierre. 

He  found  egress  from  the  hotel  blocked  by  a  surging 
crowd  which  filled  the  adjacent  section  of  the  Square  —  a 
crowd  with  grave,  absorbed,  not  to  say  awe-stricken  faces, 
all  turned  incongruously  enough  toward  a  door  bearing 
nbove  it  the  festive  sign  —  Saloon.  He  made  several  at 
tempts  by  the  use  of  his  elbows,  and  also  a  cane  with 
which  he  now  and  then  rapped  gently  upon  a  brawny 

61 


62  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

brown  jeans  shoulder,  to  force  his  way  down  from  the 
somewhat  elevated  porch,  that  seemed  in  great  requisition, 
for,  jammed  and  creaking  beneath  the  heavy  weight,  it 
afforded  special  facilities  for  looking  over  the  heads  of  the 
crowd  below.  The  cane  and  the  elbows  made  scant  im 
pression  upon  the  general  pre-occupation,  but  at  length  a 
country  fellow  turned  with  a  savage  growl  in  response  to 
a  smart  admonitory  tap  —  as  that  free,  enlightened  and 
democratic  animal  will  sometimes  do  —  and  it  occurred  to 
Travis  to  supplement  his  blandly  reproving  "  Will  you  let 
ine  pass  ?  "  with  the  inquiry,  "  What's  the  row  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  the  countryman,  casting  upon  him  an  ex 
cited  eye,  "Toole's  brother-in-law  hev  jes'  killed  a  man." 

Travis  looked  down  to  button  his  glove. 

"  Gratifying  to  Toole,"  he  murmured,  softly. 

"  That's  him  now,"  said  his  interlocutor,  leaning  eagerly 
forward.  "  That's  Toole." 

Travis,  his  progress  effectually  barred  by  the  press, 
thought  it  worth  while  to  cast  a  glance  in  the  direction 
indicated.  The  glance  lingered  upon  Tom  Toole,  stand 
ing  in  front  of  the  groggery — a  tall,  powerfully-built, 
splendidly  proportioned  figure,  and  the  very  ideal  of  a 
trooper.  His  old  wide-awake  hat  was  pushed  back,  show 
ing  his  tawny  hair  and  his  grave,  flushed  face.  His 
long  tawny  beard  streamed  down  over  the  breast  of  his 
brown  jeans  coat.  His  feet,  encased  in  coarse  muddy 
boots,  which  were  drawn  up  over  his  trousers,  moved  un 
steadily,  and  his  blue  eyes  were  deeply  bloodshot.  He 
exhibited  that  peculiar  phase  of  drunkenness  when  a 
man's  senses  have  been  sobered  by  some  sudden  shock, 
but  the  fire  still  streams  through  his  veins  and  writhea 
among  his  muscles. 

Travis  noticed  his  superb  physique  with  a  flippant  allu- 
lion  to  the  dead  man. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT.  63 

"  I  can't  sufficiently  commend  his  caution  in  not  tack 
ling  Toole." 

And  so  he  fell  smilingly  once  more  to  buttoning  his 
glove,  raising  his  hand  now  and  then  with  a  deprecatory 
gesture  when  some  man  as  tall  as  himself  jostled  against 
him  and  threatened  the  equilibrium  of  his  silk  hat,  as  it 
towered  in  aristocratic  isolation  above  the  multitude. 

"  Oh,  shucks !  "  said  the  rustic,  comprehending  him. 
"  This  hyar  Ryder  Winklegree,  the  man  what  war  killed, 
air  ez  big  ez  Tom  Toole.  He  war  able  ter  pertect  hisself. 
An'  Graffy  never  done  it  a-purpus  —  a  war  self-defence,  ye 
onderstand.  Graffy  never  drawed  a  pistol  till  Winkle- 
gree's  bowie-knife  war  at  his  throat.  That's  what  some 
say.  Though  Winklegree's  father  an'  brothers  hev  swore 
ter  sweep  the  country  ter  find  Graffy  —  the  prosecution 
air  a-goin'  ter  be  mighty  hot,  now,  ef  they  kin  compass  it. 
But  they  hain't  fund  him  yet." 

"Bolted  —  eh?"  said  Travis,  languidly,  and  even  while 
speaking  to  the  man  never  looking  at  him  and  having  the 
air  of  ignoring  him. 

"  Flunged  down  his  pistol  an'  kited  through  the  back 
door  of  the  groggery  thar.  So  I  hev  been  gin  ter  onder 
stand.  The  sheriff 's  a-riding  now." 

A  sudden  violent  commotion  of  the  crowd  swept  Travis 
and  his  acquaintance  down  the  steps  and  upon  the  pave 
ment  where  close  at  hand  a  carriage,  of  a  long  by-gone 
fashion,  awaited  him.  Far  out  into  the  street  the  throng 
was  dense,  and  after  he  had  stepped  into  the  vehicle  he 
wns  detained  for  some  minutes,  while  the  driver  loudly 
and  fervently  insisted  on  a  pass-way. 

"They  couldn't  do  nothin'  with  a  man  like  Graffy 
nohow  —  even  ef  they  makes  out  ter  find  him,"  said  one 
of  the  deeply  interested  upon  the  curb-stone.  "  He  is  an 
idjit.  Jes'  the  looks  of  him  would  be  enough  for  a  jury.'1 


64  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT. 

"Graffy's  a  sane  man,  though  he  looks  like  an  idjit-- 
thar's  su'thin  the  matter  with  the  leaders  of  his  face  so 
that  he  can't  hold  it  still  fur  a  minit,"  declared  Travis's 
former  interlocutor — a  man  of  speculation,  for  he  presently 
added  —  "It  always  did  seem  ter  me  thar  war  a  sorter 
spite  in  that  dispensation  —  ef  a  body  mought  git  thar  con 
sent  ter  think  so.  He 's  a  sane  man,  an'  he 's  made  ter  look 
like  an  idjit.  I  know  that  some  folks  'low  fur  sartain  ez  he 
is  one  —  an'  mebbe  they'll  fetch  that  up  on  the  trial." 

"  Nothing,"  began  Travis,  lounging  on  the  seat  of  the 
carriage,  his  eyes  on  his  gloves  as  he  buttoned  them  at  his 
ease  —  both  men  on  the  curb-stone  turned  sharply;  a 
touch  of  embarrassment  was  in  their  manner ;  they  were 
restive  under  the  unwonted  impertinence  of  being  spoken 
to  with  contemptuously  averted  eyes,  but  their  respectful 
attention  was  constrained  by  something  peculiarly  im 
pressive  in  Travis's  tone  and  bearing  as  if  he  were  about 
to  propound  views  of  importance  —  "  Nothing, "  he 
drawled,  "  is  so  efficacious  as  pleading  insanity." 

Then  he  leaned  slightly  out  of  the  window. 

"Now,  driver,"  he  expostulated,  with  that  affectation 
of  familiarity  and  good  humor  which  is  the  most  offensive 
form  of  condescension,  "  can't  we  trundle  along  ?  " 

The  door  banged;  the  whip  cracked;  the  good  Ten 
nessee  horses  stretched  their  muscles. 

His  lightsome  mood  deserted  him  when  he  was  alone  in 
General  Vayne's  library  awaiting  the  appearance  of  his 
step-sister.  He  walked  the  length  of  the  room  with  a 
swift,  nervous  step.  The  realization  of  the  magnitude  of 
the  interests  involved  weighed  upon  him  heavily.  The 
project  was  clumsy  at  best.  He  was  no  tactician,  and  he 
knew  it.  How  could  he  bit  and  bridle  his  words,  and  har 
ness  them  in  with  those  wayward  coursers,  the  doubt  fuj 
whims  of  a  woman. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  65 

Perhaps  it  was  the  relief  from  suspense  which  enabled 
him,  when  the  door  at  last  opened,  to  drop  naturally  and 
at  once  into  his  wonted  manner.  It  might  be  appropri 
ately  described  as  a  silken  manner,  and  it  combined  with 
all  those  soft  lustres  acquired  by  the  habit  of  good  society 
a  certain  brotherly  ease  as  he  approached  the  tall,  slender 
girl  who  stood  upon  the  threshold. 

"  I  hope,  now,  Antoinette,  you  are  going  to  say  you  are 
glad  to  see  me,"  he  drawled  softly,  as  he  took  her  hand. 
"  Stretch  your  conscience  to  that  extent ;  won't  you !  A 
little  exercise  will  benefit  it,  develop  its  elasticity  you  see. 
A  good  conscience  must  have  some  elasticity  or  it  can't  be 
an  easy  fit.  Take  the  advice  of  a  man  who  experimented 
on  his  conscience  before  you  were  born." 

She  was  evidently  not  quick  at  repartee.  She  looked 
at  him  with  smiling  hesitation,  as  if  at  a  loss  for  an  ap 
propriate  rejoinder.  Then,  as  he  laughed  lightly,  and, 
turning  away,  placed  one  of  the  cumbrous  arm-chairs  for 
her  before  the  fire,  she  replied,  at  last,  with  conscious 
flatness,  — 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you ;  very  glad." 

She  spoke  with  a  mellifluous,  monotonous  voice.  She 
moved  slowly  toward  the  chair,  the  soft  material  of  her 
long,  mourning  dress  sweeping  inaudibly  over  the  gay 
carpet.  She  was  so  languid  that  in  comparison  even 
Travis  seemed  alert.  Except  for  the  convention  which 
accounts  all  yellow-haired  girls  beautiful,  she  might  be 
held  as  only  pleasing.  Her  hair,  drawn  in  light,  loose 
waves  from  her  brow,  and  coiled  in  smooth  plaits  at  the 
back  of  her  head,  was  of  a  paler,  duller  shade  than  that  of 
the  true  auriferous  blonde.  She  had  a  fair  complexion,  a 
ready  flush,  and  a  slender,  delicate  white  throat,  half  con 
cealed  by  the  black  crape  frilling  clustered  about  it.  Her 
features  were  small,  and  singularly  characterless  and  inex- 


66  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

pressive.  Despite  its  gentle  prettiness  her  face,  in  its 
unmeaning  immobility,  was  like  a  mask. 

He  sat  down  near  her,  maintaining  his  usual  careless, 
listless  aspect,  but  occasionally  glancing  toward  her  with 
furtive  watchfulness,  and  doubtfully.  He  could  not  now 
discuss  their  sister's  will  with  the  callous  readiness  he  had 
displayed  to  Brennett.  The  consciousness  of  the  feelings 
which  must  naturally  animate  her  induced  in  him  a  repul 
sion  for  the  part  he  was  to  enact  in  the  little  scene,  in 
which  the  two  people  who  had  profited  by  the  death  of  a 
woman,  presumably  dear  to  both,  were  to  canvass  the  rela 
tive  value  of  the  property  she  had  left  them.  He  did  not 
expect  open  reproaches,  it  is  true.  He  knew  she  must  be 
keenly  sensible  of  the  futility,  as  well  as  the  unbecoming- 
ness,  involved  in  intimating  to  a  man  fifteen  years  her 
senior  that  he  failed  in  the  respect  due  to  his  sister's  mem 
ory.  She  would  dread  the  counter-intimation  that  her 
grief  had  been  so  handsomely  gilded  at  his  expense  that 
she  could  afford  to  indulge  it.  The  situation,  however, 
unsettled  him ;  the  more,  because  the  desultory  conversa 
tion,  on  trivial  topics,  failed  to  suggest  how  he  had  best 
approach  the  subject  of  his  mission.  Presently  he  was 
fain  to  lay  hold  on  his  awkward  project  without  the  pre 
liminary  graces  of  an  exordium. 

"Do  you  know,  Antoinette,"  he  said,  "that  this  is  a 
visit  on  business." 

Her  smile  might  have  meant  anything  or  nothing. 

"  I  should  like  to  talk  to  you  about  the  disposition  which 
Laura  made  in  her  will  of  her  property." 

He  had  described  Miss  St.  Pierre  to  Brennett  as  solidly 
sensible,  well-informed  for  her  age  and  sex,  and  shrewd 
beyond  either.  But  she  was  certainly  singularly  inapt  in 
conversation.  „ 

"I  was  very  much  surprised,"  she  said  inappropriately 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  67 

enough.  Then  she  checked  herself,  hastily,  with  a  deep 
flush.  For  the  surprise  she  had  expressed  might  seem  to 
refer  to  differences  which  had  long  ago  subsisted  between 
her  father  and  his  step-daughter,  while  a  member  of  his 
household,  and  in  which  Travis  had  interfered  to  aid  and 
abet  his  sister.  By  reason  of  tender  years  Antoinette  had 
been  a  non-combatant,  and  she  had  later  construed  Mrs. 
Perrier's  infrequent  letters,  a  birthday  gift  now  and  then, 
or  a  morning  call  at  long  intervals  when  in  the  same  part 
of  the  country,  rather  as  an  acknowledgment  of  her 
irresponsibility  in  these  matters  than  as  a  manifestation  of 
affection. 

To  Travis  Mrs.  Perrier  had  been  the  most  devoted  of 
sisters.  In  the  relation  of  step-children  they  had  formed 
an  alliance  offensive  and  defensive  against  all  the  world. 
Afterward  his  chosen  friend  had  become  her  husband,  and 
to  the  day  of  her  death  the  brother  and  sister  were  on 
cordial  terms  and  frequently  together.  The  fact  that  An 
toinette  was  equally  closely  related  to  her  she  had  ignored 
for  so  long  that  the  girl  was  genuinely  astonished  when 
this  relationship  was  adequately  recognized  by  the  terms 
of  the  codicil  of  the  will. 

Travis  took  instant  advantage  of  her  admission. 

"  And  I  was  surprised,  too,"  he  assented.  Then,  with 
his  incongruous  sledge-hammer  mode  of  phrasing,  he 
softly  drawled,  "I  was  very  harshly  treated."  He  leaned 
back  languidly  in  his  chair,  slipping  the  tips  of  the  fingers 
of  his  left  hand  into  his  trousers  pocket  as  he  glanced 
about  aimlessly  at  the  gay  carpet,  at  the  showy,  shattered 
mirror,  the  flashing  fender  and  andirons,  and  the  glowing 
wood  fire. 

"  The  property  which  I  received  is  inconvertible  in  the 
present  state  of  the  country  as  compared  with  those 
houses.  Now  I  am  in  need  of  ready  money,  and  I  should 


68  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

like  to  make  this  proposition  to  you.  Those  plantations 
are,  as  you  know,  completely  cleared,  in  full  operation, 
and  the  levees  are  in  perfect  condition.  Now  don't  you 
think  we  might  make  an  exchange  ?  " 

He  did  not  wait  for  a  reply,  but  began  to  argue  the 
question  in  his  reasonable,  plausible  style,  which  so  im 
pressed  strangers.  He  especially  endeavored  to  prove 
that  the  investment  was  safe,  and  dwelt  particularly  on 
the  fact  that  her  income  would  be  trebled,  as  the  planta 
tions  produced  phenomenally  in  comparison  with  the 
market  value  of  the  lands. 

"I  know  that  you  are  thinking  it  is  odd  I  wish  to 
get  rid  of  the  plantations  when  they  pay  so  well,"  he  said 
with  his  light  laugh. 

She  merely  smiled  in  her  non-committal,  conventional 
fashion. 

"  Let  me  remind  you  that  I  told  you  the  plantations  are 
not  easy  of  sale.  You  observe  I  don't  say  you  might 
readily  sell  them,  and  I  tell  you  fairly,  you  can't  mortgage 
them  nowadays."  He  made  this  stipulation  in  a  weighty 
manner ;  it  was  the  lesson  of  experience.  "  But  I  do  say 
that  they  will  give  more  income  than  any  other  investment 
whatever.  Now  I  am  in  need  of  a  considerable  sum  of 
money.  I  could  afford  to  let  you  have  them  at  a  great  sac 
rifice,  and  I  will  tell  you  why.  I  know  of  an  opportunity 
by  which  I  could  make  an  immense  fortune  if  I  had  avail 
able  capital,  and  I  could  raise  money  by  a  sale  of  those 
houses,  or  mortgages.  What  do  you  think  of  the  plan  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  just  yet  what  to  think,"  she  replied, 
slowly. 

Travis  seemed  prepared  for  this. 

"  Now,"  he  drawled,  placidly,  "  if  you  will  permit  me 
to  advise,  I  suggest  that  you  shilly-shally  as  little  as  pos 
sible  in  getting  rid  of  those  houses." 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  69 

She  fixed  her  eyes  suddenly  upon  him.  "  Why  ?  "  she 
asked,  with  a  startled  intonation. 

"  There  is  an  outstanding  title  to  that  property,  which, 
if  established,  would  invalidate  Laura's  title,  and  of  course 
yours." 

She  sat  silent  for  a  moment,  looking  intently  into  his 
tranquil  face,  as  if  she  were  trying  to  extract  more  from 
it  than  he  had  told  her  in  words. 

"  Whose  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  concisely. 
"His  name  is  Fortescue;  John  Fortescue.  You  see, 
Laura,  who  was  always  careless  in  matters  of  business, 
bought  this  property  without  having  the  records  examined, 
and  knew  nothing  of  his  interest.  If  this  claim  should  be 
set  up  —  and  I  suppose  it  will  be,  sooner  or  later  —  it 
would  involve  the  property  in  a  suit  that  might  last  ten 
years,  and  in  all  probability  you  would  lose  the  whole  of  it. 
Is  n't  it  better  to  draw  every  year  the  certain  and  large 
income  from  lands  that  can  never  be  spirited  away  by 
legal  chicanery  than  to  be  wound  up  in  endless  litigation 
like  that?" 

She  made  no  reply  for  a  time,  and  when  at  last  she 
spoke  it  was  irrelevantly. 

"  Do  you  know  Mr.  Fortescue  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  pe 
culiar  characteristic  hesitation,  which  might  pass  for  mere 
girlish  timidity,  but  in  an  older  woman  would  indicate 
habitual  caution. 

"  No,  I  have  never  met  him." 
"  Does  he  know  about  this  claim  ?  " 
"  I  should  think  not.     If  he  knew,  he  would  raise  the 
question  at  once.     A  friend  of  mine  —  or,  rather,  his  lawyer 
— discovered  it  by  accident  in  examining  some  old  records, 
and  I  suppose  we  are  the  only  people  aware  of  its  existence, 
I  did  not  know  it  myself  until  a  few  days  ago." 
"  Who  is  this  Fortescue  ?  "  she  asked. 


70  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

"  Why,  you  ought  to  know  who  he  is ;  your  father  was 
his  second-cousin,"  said  Travis,  a  trifle  impatiently,  for 
she  was  apparently  disposed  to  give  her  attention  to  small 
personal  details  rather  than  to  the  matter  of  business  sub 
mitted  for  her  consideration. 

"  I  have  heard  of  him,  but  I  never  saw  him.  He  used 
to  live  in  New  Orleans."  Then,  after  a  pause,  "  Where  is 
he  now  ?  "  she  persisted. 

"  I  do  n't  know.  He  has  the  reputation  of  being  a  wild 
fellow,  and  he  has  lived  a  riotous,  wandering  life,  chiefly 
in  Europe,  I  think.  I  know  he  has  not  been  in  New 
Orleans  for  many  years  now." 

She  leaned  her  elbow  on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  and  gazed 
reflectively  into  the  fire.  The  cheap  clock  on  the  mantel 
piece  ticked  off  many  seconds,  even  minutes,  as  she  sat 
thus,  gravely  silent.  Travis,  silent  too.,  stealthily  watched 
her.  His  contemplative  eyes  were  languid  no  longer, 
when  her  head  turned  slowly  toward  him.  She  was 
about  to  speak,  and  his  heart  beat  quick  with  the  hope 
that  she  would  at  least  promise  to  consider  the  proposition. 

She  hesitated,  as  she  always  did.  Then,  as  in  his  eager 
ness  he  leaned  slightly  toward  her,  she  said,  "  Now  that  I 
think  of  it,  I  seem  to  have  heard  that  that  man  had  two  sis 
ters,  and  a  brother.  How  was  it?  And  where  are  they  ?  " 

He  recoiled  indignantly.  He  began  to  recognize  in  all 
this  her  ill-regulated  caution,  and  perhaps  a  touch  of  sus 
picion. 

"  Why,  what  has  the  man,  himself,  to  do  with  the  mat 
ter?"  he  broke  out,  impatiently.  "It  is  his  vested 
remainder  in  the  property  that  affects  you,  Antoinette- 
You  ought  to  have  a  lawyer  to  examine  its  validity,  and 
then  decide  about  this  exchange.  The  point  of  law  is  the 
question,  not  the  man's  relatives.  Not  even  such  a  gene- 
alogist,  such  a  respecter  of  persons  as 'you,  can  make 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  71 

anything  by  taking  account  of  his  ma's  pa  and  his  pa's 
ma.  They  are  not  kin  to  the  St.  Xantaines ! " 

He  gave  that  sudden,  short  laugh  which  he  seemed  to 
keep  for  those  rare  occasions  when  he  perceived  something 
which  he  fancied  was  a  joke.  Her  face  was  as  inexpress- 
iye  as  ever,  but  a  hot  flush,  rising  to  the  roots  of  her  fair 
hail*,  warned  him.  This  was  hardly  civil,  certainly  im 
politic. 

"  Forgive  that  fling  into  the  family  tree,"  he  said,  with 
his  careless,  fraternal  air,  "  and  I'll  tell  you  all  I  know 
about  the  man's  brother  and  sisters,  although  they  died  in 
childhood,  and  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the 
affair.  They  were  drowned  in  a  steamboat  accident  on 
the  Mississippi  River,  when  the  Belief ontaine  burned  just 
above  my  father's  plantation.  Never  shall  forget  how 
she  looked  swinging  around  the  bend,  a  tower  of  flames." 

"Oh,  were  they  the  children  drowned  there!  I  re 
member  that  dreadful  story,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
shudder. 

He  looked  at  her  and  laughed.  "  It  was  nearly  thirty 
years  ago,"  he  cried. 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  How  that  family  has  thinned  out,"  said  Travis,  dis 
cursively.  "  His  father  was  an  only  child  and  his  mother's 
brother,  Adolphe  Duchene  —  you  remember  that  crusty 
old  bachelor  ?  —  died  ten  or  fifteen  years  ago.  This 
Fortescue  is  the  last  of  them." 

Then  ensued  another  interval  of  silence. 

"  What  sort  of  claim  is  this  ?  "  asked  Antoinette. 

"  Well,  the  man  who  sold  to  Laura  made  a  fraudulent 
conveyance.  He  had  only  a  life  estate  in  the  property. 
That  is  now  terminated  arid  Fortescue  is  the  remainder 
man.  You  can  get  all  the  details  by  having  a  lawyer  to 
examine  the  record." 


72  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT. 

"If  I  should  exchange  with  you,"  she  said,  "you 
would  have  the  same  difficulty  about  this  claim.  What 
would  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  am  willing  to  take  the  risk.  There  is  a  probability 
that  the  claim  may  never  be  set  up.  If  it  should  be  I 
could  possibly  compromise  with  the  claimant.  A  man  in 
my  financial  position  must  make  sacrifices.  But  you  —  I 
should  think  you  would  want  to  avoid  the  losses  and  un 
certainties  of  litigation." 

She  made  no  rejoinder. 

"Remember,"  persisted  Travis,  "this  claim  may  be 
sprung  at  any  moment,  and  any  lawyer  will  assure  you 
that  it  is  valid." 

"If  I  have  no  right  to  the  property,"  she  exclaimed, 
hotly,  and  losing  for  the  first  time  her  self-possession,  "  I 
don't  care  to  keep  it." 

"I  thought  you  were  too  sharp  for  that  sort  of  senti 
mental  nonsense,"  returned  Travis,  scornfully.  "Don't 
you  see  that  Laura  paid  a  full  value  for  the  property  and 
you  can  only  be  ousted  by  some  legal  subtlety.  But  law 
is  law,  you  know,  and  many  people  have  lost  property 
through  carelessness  about  titles.  And,  Antoinette,  if  I 
were  in  your  place  I  would  not  talk  about  this  affair. 
The  mere  whisper  of  it  will  cloud  your  title  so  that  noth 
ing  can  be  done  with  that  property  for  the  next  thirty 
years.  And  Fortescue  may  never  move  in  the  matter. 
There  is  nothing  underhand  in  keeping  it  quiet,"  he  added 
quickly  as  a  concession  to  feminine  squeamishness.  "  It 
is  all  blazoned  on  the  record  —  as  free  to  Fortescue  as  to 
anybody  else." 

Once  more  there  was  a  long  pause. 

"Take  it  all  into  consideration,"  said  Travis,  rising. 
"I  hope  you  will  determine  on  the  safest  course— the 
only  safe  course  for  you." 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  73 

He  walked  to  the  door,  stopped  as  with  an  after-thought, 
then  suddenly  turned  back.  He  caught  her  countenance 
off  its  guard.  She  was  looking  after  him  with  perplexed 
anxiety  and  distrust  in  her  eyes  —  a  cold,  hard,  calculating 
dubitation  anomalously  expressed  itself  in  her  delicate  in 
fantile  features.  He  was  not  a  man  of  observant  habit, 
but  the  realization  of  the  crisis  sharpened  his  senses.  So 
far,  it  was  evident,  his  mission  had  been  a  failure.  An 
appreciation  of  this  fact  gave  his  amiable,  languid  manner 
the  added  charm  of  a  gentle  deprecation  as  he  approached 
her  once  more. 

"  Ah,  Antoinette,"  he  said,  "  I  had  almost  forgotten." 
Then  with  his  blunt  habit  of  speech  — "  I  have  brought 
you  something  that  I  thought  you  would  like." 

Her  eyebrows  were  elevated  in  doubting  surprise. 

"  It  really  belongs  more  properly  to  you  than  to  me  — 
that  old  St.  Xantaine  cross,  you  know." 

Her  face  changed ;  her  color  rose ;  her  eyes  were  sud 
denly  aglow;  her  lips  parted  in  a  smile  of  unaffected 
pleasure. 

"Oh,  how  kind  of  you  —  how  kind  and  thoughtful! 
There  is  nothing  in  all  the  world  that  I  should  so  delight 
to  possess." 

The  genuine  ring  in  her  voice  thrilled  him.  As  he 
placed  the  gleaming  gaud  in  her  hand  there  was  a  certain 
picturesque  effect  in  their  attitudes.  It  might  have 
seemed  a  moment  of  some  splendid  homage — the  man 
was  so  handsome  and  so  intent  upon  pleasing ;  she  was  so 
graciously  pretty  and  so  evidently  agitated  by  a  sweet 
emotion.  The  scene  would  have  suggested  an  episode  in 
a  romance.  Surely  there  was  no  possible  intimation  that 
the  presentation  of  the  cross  was  devised  by  a  crafty 
schemer  to  lubricate  the  stubborn  machinery  of  a  clumsy 
project. 


74  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

Certainly  all  was  much  smoother  now.  The  girl  held 
up  the  diamond  X  all  a-glitter,  and  laughed  with  pleasure. 
Travis  found  it  easy  enough  to  say  in  a  casual,  off-hand, 
brotherly  fashion,  — 

"  I'll  write  to  you  about  that  matter  of  exchange,  An 
toinette,  and  give  you  in  detail  all  the  points." 

"  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  hear  from  you,"  she  replied, 
prettily,  and  he  was  struck  anew  by  the  change  in  her  voice. 

"  By  the  Lord  Harry,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  stepped 
into  the  carriage  and  was  bowled  rapidly  away,  "  Maurice 
Brennett  himself  couldn't  have  managed  that  more 
adroitly." 

Then  his  flexible  attention  turned  from  the  subject,  and 
as  he  cast  a  glance  out  of  the  window  at  the  desolate 
waste  that  encompassed  him  on  every  side,  something  in 
the  terrible  solemnity  of  its  aspect  smote  upon  the  chords 
of  his  trivial  nature  and  set  them  all  to  jarring. 

"  Damn  such  a  God-forsaken  country ! "  he  exclaimed 
with  a  sudden  unreasoning  anger. 

He  struck  a  match,  lighted  his  cigar,  lifted  his  boots  to 
the  opposite  cushions,  and  thus  as  comfortably  established 
as  circumstances  would  allow,  gazed  out  upon  it  with  a 
contemplative  contempt  into  which  entered  an  element  of 
self-gratulation  that  it  was  none  of  his. 

And  so  he  saw  before  him  a  bleak  barren ;  he  knew  that 
it  rained  and  sleeted  and  hailed  alternately ;  he  heard  the 
frozen  drops  of  water  dashing  against  the  glass,  and  he 
was  chilled. 

But  did  he  see,  as  he  passed,  a  spectral  wavering  in  the 
haunted  thickets,  where  even  the  weeds  were  dead  and 
sheeted  with  ice  ?  Did  the  wind  bring  to  him  from  across 
the  plain  the  shrill  tones  of  a  bugle,  piercing  the  clamor 
of  some  woful  invisible  rout?  Did  he  quake  with  an 
unnamed  fear  when  he  skirted  a  heavy  work  and  the 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS    FOUGHT.  75 

pallid  mists  came  suddenly  down  and  interposed  an  im« 
palpable  but  opaque  barrier  between  mortal  eyes  and  some 
fierce  assault  upon  the  grim  redoubt,  which  threw  the 
earth  into  a  strong  tremor  and  shook  the  air  with  a 
terrible  sound?  Was  he  even  aware  of  the  presence  of  a 
woman,  who  heard  and  saw  all  these  things,  as  she  stood 
in  the  rain,  and  the  hail,  and  the  sleet  on  the  steep  slope 
of  the  great  traverse  in  the  midst  of  the  terre-parade  plein 
of  Fort  Despair  —  or  was  his  glance  so  cursory  that  he 
hardly  distinguished  her  among  the  bushes,  and  the  mists, 
and  the  looming  works  ?  Sometimes  she  turned  her  head 
slowly,  fearfully,  impelled  to  look  backward,  yet  hardly 
daring  for  the  horror  of  what  she  might  see.  Sometimes 
she  rose  to  her  full  height  and,  panting  with  her  exertions, 
leaned  upon  her  axe-handle  and  gazed  far  away  at  the 
billowy  sweep  of  the  wire-weeds  —  all  whitened  with  the 
hail  and  lashed  by  the  wind  into  a  surf-like  commotion, 
and  stretching  and  stretching  across  the  level,  until, 
though  only  weeds,  they  touched  the  blurred  sky.  Then 
she  bent  once  more  to  her  work. 

And  it  was  strange  work  for  a  woman  —  and  a  slight, 
timorous,  weakly  woman  like  this.  She  dug  for  the  wood 
as  well  as  cut  it,  for,  although  others  had  been  here  before 
her  on  a  like  errand,  the  timbers  of  the  old  powder- 
magazine  still  lay  deeply  embedded  in  the  heart  of  the 
great  traverse.  They  would  kindle  more  readily  than 
the  green,  soaked,  ice-girt  saplings  close  at  hand,  and 
make  better  fuel  for  supper.  This  heavy,  unaccustomed 
labor,  and  the  terrors  of  the  spectred  place  were  a  check 
on  some  grief  which  beset  her.  It  was  only  at  long  inter 
vals  that  she  fell  to  sobbing,  and  dried  her  tears  with  the 
backs  of  her  hands,  or  upon  the  sleeve  of  her  dark  blue 
cotton  dress,  or  upon  the  red  worsted  tippet  tied  over  her 
yellow  hair,  which  hung  down  about  her  neck  after  the 


76  WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

country  fashion,  and  glittered  here  and  there  with  frozen 
drops  of  water.  Then  with  a  tension  of  muscle  and  nerves 
that  sought  to  be  substituted  for  strength  she  lifted  the 
axe,  and  again  the  burnished  glimmer  of  the  steel  cleft 
the  pallid  mists.  There  was  a  flash  of  a  different  kind 
struck  out  when  the  metal  clashed  sharply  upon  a  minie- 
balL,  spent  so  long  ago,  and  sunk  into  the  clay,  or  a 
curiously  fashioned,  flint  arrowhead,  —  for  often  these 
implements  of  warfare  of  far  different  ages  and  far  dif 
ferent  peoples  are  found  lying  side  by  side,  washed  by  the 
same  rain,  lighted  by  the  same  sunshine,  turned  sometimes 
into  the  same  peaceful  furrow.  Once  there  was  projected 
into  the  dim,  gray  atmosphere  a  fiery  darting  gleam, 
brighter  and  fiercer  than  all  the  others.  She  drew  back 
hastily,  then  she  stooped  and  took  from  the  earth  a  great 
solid  shot,  and  tossed  it  down  upon  the  terre-plein.  "  Ef 
that  thar  thing,"  she  said,  as  she  watched  it  break  the  ice 
in  a  standing  pool,  "  ef  that  thar  thing  hed  happened  ter 
be  a  bomb,  the  way  that  fire  lept  up  mought  hev  busted 
it.  An'"  —  with  a  sudden  change  of  countenance,  —  I 
wish  it  hed !  I  wish  it  hed !  " 

And  yet  again  her  fears  broke  upon  her  weeping. 
Suddenly  her  eyes  were  dilated  with  a  new  terror.  She 
had  become  strongly  conscious  of  a  vague  presence  near 
at  hand.  She  fancied  that  it  sometimes  flitted  to  the 
shapeless  fissure  where  once  was  the  door  of  the  powder- 
magazine,  but  as  her  glance  turned  thither  it  stole  back 
silently  into  the  glooms  within.  With  a  morbid  fascina 
tion  she  was  continually  peering  over  at  that  black  gap 
below,  as  she  worked  high  up  in  the  rain  outside.  She 
saw  only  the  mists  shifting  in  and  out  of  the  useless 
vault-like  place.  But  when  she  averted  her  eyes  she 
knew  that  something  had  slipped  to  the  door  and  was 
looking  at  her. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  77 

All  the  full-pulsed  courage  that  had  once  beat  so  high 
here  where  the  battle  was  fought  had  ebbed  away  long 
ago,  and  there  were  those  stronger  than  she  who  avoided 
the  place  as  if  there  were  a  ban  upon  it.  She  only  won 
dered  now  that  she  should  have  come  at  all,  as  she  hastily 
packed  the  wood  she  had  cut  into  the  barrow,  and  wheeled 
it  away  through  the  outlet  and  into  the  midst  of  the 
battlefield,  along  the  road  that  the  movements  of  mighty 
armies  had  worn,  —  a  meek  successor  to  the  flying  artil 
lery  !  But  here  the  whirl  of  any  wheel  was  suggestive, 
and  it  roused  the  cavernous  echoes.  Even  when  it  was 
silenced  by  the  distance  the  bright  colors  of  her  garments 
were  visible  from  the  spot  she  had  left  —  now  a  fitful 
gleam  of  red  and  blue  against  the  hail-whitened  weeds, 
and  now  adding  to  the  Protean  illusions  of  the  place 
and  flaunting  like  a  battle-flag  from  a  far  away  misty 
lunette. 

And  when  it  was  gone  at  last  a  sound  issued  suddenly 
from  the  silence  of  the  old  powder-magazine  —  a  sound 
as  of  despairing  hands  struck  together.  A  man  came 
out  abruptly  from  the  jagged  fissure  and  stood  gazing 
wistfully  at  the  point  where  she  had  disappeared,  —  a 
man  with  a  face  such  as  one  does  not  care  to  look  upon 
twice,  a  face  which  Nature  seems  to  have  intended  as  n 
flout  at  humanity.  There  was  some  painful  affection  of 
its  muscles  which  would  not  let  it  be  still  for  an  instan  t. 
He  mowed  and  grimaced  like  an  idiot,  and  only  the 
expression  of  his  eyes  gave  evidence  of  his  sanity.  lie 
was  further  set  apart  by  the  red  brand  of  a  birth-mark 
above  his  left  eyebrow.  His  yellow  hair,  of  a  deeper  hue 
ftnd  a  silkier  texture,  but  like  the  woman's,  hung  down  to 
the  collar  of  his  brown  jeans  coat.  Here  only  was  the 
hand  of  Nature  laid  kindly  upon  him  —  even  in  the  gray 
light  of  the  sad  day  it  glimmered  like  burnished  gold. 


78  WHERE  THE   BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

When  he  spoke,  each  syllable  was  flung  out  from  his 
agitated  muscles  with  the  force  of  a  projectile. 

"  Mirandy  might  have  holped  me  some !  Jes'  one  word 
would  have  holped  me  some !  But  I  dilly-dallies  ter  the 
door — an'  then  I  dilly-dallies  back — too  skeered  ter  let 
her  know.  An'  now  she's  gone !  An'  ef  I  war  to  gin  her 
a  call  to  fotch  her  back,  them  ghostis  would  set  up  sech  a 
charging  cheer  I'd  most  drap  dead  ter  hear  it." 

He  too  glanced  dubiously  over  his  left  shoulder,  and  his 
own  mowing  face  set  in  the  pallid  mists  was  as  frightful 
an  object  as  any  he  could  dread  to  see. 

As  he  stood  out  hatless  in  the  rain  and  the  sleet  he 
noted  the  deepening  gloom  of  the  day.  The  early  night 
fall  was  close  at  hand,  and  he  welcomed  the  change. 

"It'll  be  cleverly  dark  by  the  tune  Mirandy  gits  ter 
her  house,"  he  said,  unconsciously  speaking  aloud,  the 
rural  proclivity  to  soliloquy  strong  upon  him.  "An' 
along  'bout  midnight  I  kin  slip  down  thar  an'  see  Tom 
an'  her  —  an'  —  "  What  to  do  then  ?  Once  more,  with 
a  realization  of  the  utter  futility  of  scheming  or  effort,  he 
held  his  despairing  hands  above  his  head  and  smote  them 
together. 

Then  he  turned  back  into  the  old  powder-magazine  for 
safetv.  Sometimes  when  the  terrors  of  the  law  were 
strong  upon  him  he  lay  silent,  motionless,  scarcely  daring 
to  breathe,  listening  to  detect  some  alien  sound  in  the 
surging  wind,  and  the  ceaseless  rain,  and  the  turmoil  of 
the  ghostly  forces  that  had  died  in  the  vain  struggle 
to  carry  the  work,  and  vainly  struggled  still.  Then  there 
were  times  when  fear  loosed  its  clutch  upon  him,  and  he 
rose  up  and  strode  about  his  narrow  bounds,  the  grotesque 
distortions  of  his  mowing  face  more  horrible  than  ever  in 
contrast  with  the  misery  expressed  in  his  eyes  —  times 
when  be  could  take  no  comfort  from  the  distinctions 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  79 

between  murder,  and  manslaughter,  and  excusable  homi 
cide.  He  only  knew  that  there  was  blood  upon  his  hands. 
And  he  wrung  them. 

The  woman  wheeling  the  barrow  had  need  of  the  guid 
ing  gleam  of  light  which  she  caught  from  far  across  the 
battlefield.  It  was  like  the  glister  of  some  great,  lucent, 
tremulous  star,  but  it  was  charged  with  a  meaning  foreign 
to  cold  sidereal  glintings.  It  was  the  light  of  a  home 
and  the  fact  can  dignify  a  kerosene  lamp  and  a  log- 
cabin. 

She  burst  into  her  ready  tears  as  she  saw  it.  "  Thar  '11 
be  a  mighty  differ  in  that  house  arter  this!"  she  ex 
claimed. 

The  red  fire-light  flared  out  into  the  night  as  the  door 
was  opened  and  a  burly  shadow  came  forth  to  meet  her. 

"Gimme  a  holt  o'  the  handles  o'  that  thar  barrow, 
Mirandy !  "  said  Tom  Toole  in  penitent  haste.  "  I  clean 
forgot  thar  war  n't  nothin'  lef  at  the  wood-pile."  He 
meant  the  place  where  the  pile  ought  to  be.  "  Did  ye  hev 
ter  go  a-pickin'  up  of  doty  wood  off  'n  the  grouii'  ?  " 

"Thar  war  n't  no  doty  wood  nowhar  ter  pick  up," 
sobbed  Miranda.  "  I  got  this  off  'n  the  old  forts." 

Her  husband  turned  and  looked  hard  at  her  as  she  came 
into  the  light. 

"  Ye  hev  hearn  'bout  it  all,"  he  said,  conclusively. 

"  They  kem  hyar  a-sarchin'  fur  him,"  she  replied. 

"  They  ain't  fund  him  yit,"  he  said,  breathing  hard  as 
he  thrust  his  hands  into  the  pockets  of  his  brown  jeans 
trousers  and  strode  heavily  up  and  down  the  floor.  His 
wife  had  knelt  upon  the  rough  ill-adjusted  stones  of 
the  hearth,  and  was  stirring  the  live  coals  with  an  old 
bayonet  kept  in  the  chimney  corner  for  the  peaceful 
offices  of  poker.  But  when  he  spoke  she  turned  her 
head  and  looked  after  him  breathlessly,  the  bayonet  still 


80  WHERE  THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

in  her  hand,  her  loose  yellow  hair  tossed  back,  a  deep 
flush  hot  on  her  cheeks,  her  eyes  wide  and  bright,  the 
kindling  of  a  sudden  hope  revivifying  the  early  faded 
youth  in  her  face.  She  had  expected  only  a  terrible  tale 
of  capture  and  despair.  And  she  had  dreaded  it. 

Toole  was  a  man  of  a  discriminating  conscience. 

"  Ef  Graffy  hed  done  it  a-purpose  I'd  be  the  fust  to  say 
— « Take  him.'  An  ef  Graffy  hed  done  it  in  a  fair  fight 
I'd  say  —  'That's  agin  the  law.  Take  him,  too.'  But 
thar  air  mighty  few  men  ez  hev  got  the  grit  ter  stand  still 
with  the  p'int  of  another  feller's  bowie-knife  ter  thar 
throat  an'  be  carved.  Ev'ybody  said  'twar  no  wonder 
that  Graffy  drawed  his  pistol  then.  He'd  hev  been  a 
dead  man  ef  he  hed  n't.  Leastways,  that  is  the  word 
they  tell  in  town." 

Caution  prompted  this  last  stipulation,  for  Toole  was 
conscious  of  having  been  too  drunk  at  the  time  of  the 
occurrence  for  the  evidence  of  his  senses  to  be  of  any 
value,  even  to  himself. 

His  wife  hesitated,  the  bayonet  still  poised  above  the 
glowing  coals.  Then  with  suddenly  developed  cynicism 
she  said  —  "Thar's  nothin'  like  humans.  A  man  air 
obligated  ter  be  mighty  peart  ter  git  away  from  twelve 
other  men  a-settin'  in  jedgment  on  him." 

"Waal,"  said  Toole,  "he  air  fur  enough  away  from 
hyar  by  now,  I  reckon.  'Twar  self-defence,  but  ev'ybody 
'lowed  that  the  prosecution  would  hev  been  mighty 
fierce." 

"  How'd  he  git  the  money  ter  go  ?  "  asked  the  woman 
with  an  anxiously  knitted  brow. 

"  Somebody  mus'  hev  lent  it  ter  him,  I  reckon,"  said 
Toole  with  preposterous  hopefulness. 

Equally  ignoring  the  probabilities  she  assented  to  this 
new  and  then  fell  silent. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  81 

Every  faculty  was  absorbed  in  brooding  upon  the  vari 
ous  phases  of  the  event,  and  she  went  mechanically  about 
her  preparations  for  supper  —  broiling  the  salt  pork  upon 
the  live  coals,  and  baking  a  johnny  cake  on  a  square  flat 
board  propped  up  before  the  fire  and  thus  exposed  to  its 
heat.  There  was  "salt  risin'"  bread  in  the  oven  with 
coals  beneath  and  upon  the  lid.  This  she  lifted  off  now 
and  then  with  the  bayonet-poker  to  judge  how  the 
baking  was  progressing.  Once  she  let  it  fall  with  a  heavy 
crash. 

"  An'  whar  he  will  go,"  she  cried,  with  a  sharp  note  of 
anguish,  "it  will  all  be  strange  to  him.  He  air  a  man 
marked  for  a  purpose  by  God  A'mighty  —  but  what  air 
the  purpose  nobody  keers  ter  know.  Thar  '11  be  laffin'  an' 
mockin',  an'  a-follerin'  of  him  always.  An'  stones  will  be 
flung  at  him  in  the  streets.  'Pears  like  ter  me  ez  I  kin 
feel  'em  now.  The  Lord  is  mighty  hard  on  some  folks." 

Toole  paused  in  his  heavy  striding  to  and  fro.  He 
looked  upon  his  wife  as  a  sort  of  moral  pilot,  and  he  felt 
that  he  was  now  among  the  breakers. 

"  That  ain't  religion,  Mirandy,"  he  said,  severely.  "  An' 
ye  air  a-talkin'  of  foolishness.  Who  hev  got  the  moest 
friends  —  you,  or  me,  or  him  ?  Why,  thar  ain't  a  yaller 
dog  in  the  county  that  don't  wag  his  tail  when  that  man 
goes  by  the  fence.  An'  wharever  he  '11  drift  to  thar  '11  be 
the  same  pack  o'  chillen,  an'  idle,  shiftless  niggers,  an'  no 
'count  white  trash  a-hangin'  round  ter  hear  him  play  on 
the  fiddle,  an'  beg  or  borry  his  money  —  he  can't  keep  his 
money  no  more'n  of  it  'twas  red  hot  —  an'  git  him  to  do 
'em  faviors.  And'  they'll  traipse  arter  him  jes'  like  they 
done  hyar.  An'  he'll  crap  —  he'll  rent  land  from  some 
body.  An'  he'll  go  fishin' ;  he'll  go  lishin'  of  a  Sat'day 
like  he  always  done.  He  ain't  so  'flicted,  nohow  ;  he  hev 
been  respected  by  all.  An'  this  thing  war  self-defence 


82  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

Lawyer  Green  was  speakin'  'bout  it  jes'  afore  I  kem  out'n 
Chattalla,  an'  he  said  he  thought  so,  j  eel  gin'  from  town 
talk  an'  them  that  stood  by.  Law,  Mirandy,  he'll  go  fishin' 
all  the  same,  an'  the  chillen,  an'  the  dead-beats,  white  an' 
black,  all  will  hang  round  him,  an'  he'll  hev  so  many 
friends  that  they'll  hardly  leave  him  a  nickel  for  him 
self." 

Somehow  the  idea  of  this  friendship,  albeit  of  a  dubious 
advantage,  made  life  seem  more  tolerable  to  Miranda. 
The  fire  flared  joyously  up  the  wide  chimney,  casting  a 
ruddy  glow  on  the  faces  of  the  children  as  they  trooped 
in  to  supper,  and  conjuring  up  quaint  shadows  on  the 
dark  walls  and  the  rafters,  from  which  depended  strings 
of  red  peppers,  and  hanks  of  blue  and  yellow  and  white 
yarn,  and  a  picturesque  swinging-shelf  where  the  hum 
ble  store  of  groceries  was  kept  safe  from  the  rats  and 
mice.  And  there  was  the  sound  of  childish  laughter 
in  the  house,  that  had  been  so  sad  to-day,  and  the  baby 
grew  excited  amidst  the  hurly-burly,  and  after  the  others 
were  tucked  into  the  trundle-bed  he  was  hard  to  get  to 
sleep.  But  at  last  quiet  came  again.  Toole  lounged  in 
front  of  the  fire  smoking  his  cob  pipe,  and  his  wife,  her 
foot  still  on  the  rocker  of  the  box-like  cradle,  sat  in  a  low 
chair  mending  the  child's  clothes  until,  succumbing  to  the 
soporific  influences  of  the  heat  after  her  long  cold  tramp, 
she  fell  asleep  over  her  work.  Very  still  it  was  within ; 
you  might  have  heard  the  drawing  of  the  wick  in  the 
kerosene  lamp,  for  the  oil  was  low.  There  was  a  bed  of 
pulsating  coals  where  the  hilarious  flames  had  been.  The 
gnawing  of  a  mouse  among  the  rafters  now  and  then  an 
notated  the  silence.  Without,  the  rain  fell  in  a  low 
muffled  roar  —  sometimes  a  volley  dashed  against  the 
shutterless  window.  The  mists  pressed  their  pallid 
cheeks  close  to  it  and  looked  in.  Far  and  faint  a  bugle 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  83 

gang  out  suddenly  in  the  night  and  the  wind  redoubled 
its  force. 

It  was  with  a  movement  as  if  a  galvanic  thrill  were  all 
at  once  astir  in  every  fibre,  that  Tom  Toole  became  con 
scious  that  something  beside  the  mist  was  looking  in  at 
the  window.  Roused  to  a  wild  alarm  he  sat  rigidly  up 
right,  his  pipe  in  his  hand  and  his  eyes  fixed,  expectant  of 
the  re-appearance  of  the  vague  presence  of  which  he  had 
only  caught  a  glimpse.  It  might  have  been  hallucination, 
suggested  by  the  subject  uppermost  in  his  mind;  it  might 
have  been  the  distortions  of  the  rain  and  the  grimy  glass ; 
it  might  have  been  the  strange  uncanny  effect  of  the  mist, 
but  it  was  like  a  mowing  human  face.  And  he  knew  it 
when  it  came  again. 

He  cast  a  startled  glance  upon  his  wife ;  her  sleeping 
head  had  sunk  down  on  the  edge  of  the  cradle,  and  her 
yellow  hair  streamed  over  the  baby's  torn  red  dress 
which  she  still  held  half  mended  in  her  unconscious 
hand.  No  creature  was  awake  in  the  house  except  him 
self  and  the  mouse  gnawing  among  the  rafters.  He  crept 
cautiously  to  the  door  —  so  cautiously  that  the  loose 
boards  of  the  ill-floored  room  scarcely  creaked  beneath 
his  heavy  weight.  That  short  instant  was  charged  with 
the  force  of  years.  He  always  felt  afterward  that  in 
shutting  himself  out  into  the  rain,  and  mist,  and  darkness, 
with  the  man  who  awaited  him  there,  he  had  shut  himself 
off  forever  from  all  his  former  life  —  a  life  so  different 
from  what  was  to  come  that  it  often  seemed  to  him  that 
that  other  reckless,  buoyant,  undismayed  self  had  died 
when  he  closed  the  door. 

Henceforth  he  was  a  changed  man,  for  he  carried  a 
heavy  secret.  He  could  not  so  much  as  be  boisterously 
drunk  of  a  Saturday  evening,  according  to  the  immemorial 
tustom  of  the  dwellers  about  Chattalla,  lest  some  fatal 


84  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS    FOUGHT 

allusion  escape  him.  He  was  of  an  unthinking  habit  of 
speech,  and  the  perpetual  guard  upon  his  tongue,  even 
when  alone  with  his  wife  and  children,  was  a  perpetual 
effort.  He  actually  feared  that  he  would  tell  in  his  sleep 
that  a  man  whom  the  law  sought,  lurked  in  hiding  near 
at  hand.  He  could  scarcely  support  the  strain  of  feigning, 
when  among  his  boon  companions ;  speculation  was  rife  aa 
to  Graffy's  flight  and  refuge.  Whenever  his  boat  was  in 
mid-stream,  and  he  faced  the  east,  as  he  pulled  on  the 
ropes  his  heart  waxed  faint  and  his  sinews  failed,  and  he 
labored  hard  in  the  old  accustomed  vocation  that  used  to 
be  but  a  slight  matter  for  his  strength.  He  was  aware, 
too,  of  a  change  of  countenance  in  nearing  the  cruel  old 
redoubt,  and  grew  painfully  conscious  of  the  powder- 
magazine  in  the  distance,  where,  as  in  a  cell,  a  man  who 
had  slain  another  in  self-defence  expiated  a  deed  that 
the  law  forgives. 

Sometimes  for  the  sake  of  the  light  and  air,  Graffy 
stole  cautiously  out  from  the  jagged  fissure  where  once 
was  the  door  of  the  powder-magazine,  and  lay  at  length 
on  the  banquette.  He  could  see  far  across  the  battle-field 
through  the  outlet,  narrow  though  it  was.  The  sun  came 
out  and  shone  upon  the  young  ice-covered  growth  fringing 
the  long  lines  of  earthworks,  and  then  those  grim  parapets 
seemed  overhung  by  a  glittering  network  of  stellular 
scintillations.  Even  the  humble  wire-weed  was  an  incred 
ibly  magical  and  refulgent  thing,  and  all  the  level  expanse 
was  bestrewn  with  myriads  of  glancing  frosty  points  of 
light.  The  skies,  vast  as  the  skies  above  a  sea,  shoaled 
from  blue  to  orange,  and  thence  to  the  purest  green,  in 
the  midst  of  which  the  red  sun  went  down  to  the  purple 
hills.  There  was  much  splendor  before  the  sad  eyes  so 
full  of  tears,  and  half  unconsciously  he  missed  it  as  the 
thaw  came  on. 


WHEB.E  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  85 

He  gi  ew  very  lonely  after  a  time.  He  eagerly  watched 
for  Miranda  as  she  went  back  and  forth  from  the  house, 
and  he  was  glad  to  know  that  she  thought  he  had 
miraculously  secured  the  money  to  go  far  away,  and  was 
safe  somewhere,  making  a  new  life  for  himself  in  a  new 
place.  He  learned  to  look  for  the  ferry-boat,  slipping  to 
and  fro  across  the  river  with  some  wagoner  and  his  team, 
and  he  took  an  interest  too  in  the  passengers.  His  idle 
gaze  followed  Tom's  motions  as  he  cut  the  wood,  or  fed 
the  pigs,  or  pulled  the  boat  and  set  the  air  vibrating  with 
his  melodies. 

For  with  no  appreciation  of  his  voice,  and  no  adequate 
appreciation  of  his  motive,  Toole  sang  at  his  work,  though 
his  heart  was  heavy,  thinking  the  sound  might  give  a 
sense  of  companionship  to  the  solitary  wretch  hidden 
away  there  in  the  empty  powder-magazine.  Even  the 
stern  old  rocks  along  the  river  were  instinct  with  a  wild, 
barbaric,  melodic  spirit  and  responded  in  strophe  and  anti- 
strophe.  Sometimes  there  were  war-songs ;  sometimes 
quaint  antiquated  ditties  which  his  great-grandfather  had 
brought  here  when  he  came  and  settled  in  the  cane  among 
the  Indians;  often  he  sang  a  certain  old  hymn,  and  its 
dominant  iteration  —  "  Peace  —  peace  —  be  still ! "  — 
resounded  in  its  strong  constraining  intensity  far  and 
wide  over  the  battlefield  —  echoing  from  parapet  to 
parapet,  thrilling  through  the  haunted  thickets,  and  break 
ing  the  silence  with  a  noble  pathos  where  the  shadowy 
j  icli  rts  lurked  and  listened  in  the  rifle-pits. 

A  long  unseasonable  drought  succeeded  the  thaw,  chill 
and  calm,  with  a  clear  sky,  and  a  pale  suffusion  of  wintry 
sunlight.  The  traffic  on  the  distant  pike  was  slight,  and 
the  dust  lay  motionless.  But  more  than  once  on  the 
battlefield  when  the  earth  was  a-throb  with  that  strange 
tremor,  and  a  vibratory  blare  rang  faint  in  the  distance, 


86  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

and  a  dull  weird  clash  as  of  arms  pervaded  the  drear  and 
lonely  sunshine,  Graffy  heard  the  swift  wheels  of  artillery 
whirl  by  with  a  hollow  whir,  and  he  saw  the  dust  spring 
up  from  an  old  redan  and,  without  a  breath  of  air,  whirl 
too  in  a  reeling  column  after  the  invisible  battery.  He 
had  seen  often  before  this  simple  phenomenon  of  dry 
weather.  But  its  coincidence  with  the  sound  gave  it  a 
new  meaning,  and  then  he  came  to  fear  the  dead  hardly 
less  than  the  living. 

And  so  when  Tom  Toole,  under  cover  of  the  midnight, 
slipped  down  into  the  old  magazine  with  his  tin  pail  of 
bits,  stolen  from  his  own  larder,  and  his  canteen  that  had 
not  yet  forgotten  a  certain  trick  of  joviality,  and  a  cart 
ridge-box  full  of  tobacco,  he  would  find  these  creature 
comforts  disregarded  by  Graffy  in  his  frantic  importunncy 
for  the  money  to  get  away  and  be  gone  forever.  A 
promise  to  "  skeer  up "  all  the  cash  possible  without 
exciting  suspicion,  supplemented  by  warnings  that  an  in 
advertence  would  certainly  precipitate  capture  while  all 
the  world  was  yet  on  the  alert  for  the  reward  offered, 
could  reconcile  Graffy  to  the  "  harnts  "  for  a  time  —  so 
long  in  sooth  as  Toole  lay  there  and  smoked  his  pipe,  and 
talked  in  whispers,  even  though  his  topic  was  not  cheer 
ful.  For  Toole  grew  prone  to  dwell  upon  the  experience 
of  various  malefactors  who  had  fled  from  justice  with  an 
inadequate  supply  of  funds,  and  who  were  finally  glad  to 
choose  between  surrender  and  starvation  among  strangers, 
fairly  falling  upon  the  sheriff's  neck  for  joy  when  he  camo 
with  the  Governor's  requisition. 

But  when  Tom  was  gone  Graffy  would  relapse  into  his 
anguish  of  loneliness.  He  pined  for  his  friends  —  who, 
stimulated  by  the  reward  offered  for  his  apprehension, 
Bought  him  by  bush  and  brake.  He  pined  for  the  sound 
of  his  crazy  old  fiddle.  He  yearned  for  the  light.  One 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  87 

afternoon  when  he  crept  out  from  his  burrow  he  found 
that  clouds  had  gathered  at  last  and  portended  rain.  He 
hardly  feared  to  lie  here  on  the  tread  of  the  banquette, 
for  in  these  days  there  were  no  laborers  in  the  fields. 
The  last  "  dog-tail,"  as  the  frosted  remnant  of  the  cotton 
is  called,  still  hung  on  the  black  and  withered  stalk,  and 
not  a  plough  was  yet  bedding  up  land  for  the  new  crop. 
In  these  early  sunsets  the  cattle  that  broke  down  the 
fences,  or  were  surreptitiously  let  through  the  bars  by 
their  enterprising  owners  that  they  might  utilize  General 
Yayne's  fields  as  pasturage,  came  lowing  by  on  their 
homeward  way.  Sometimes  an  estray  was  sought  with  a 
loud,  beguiling  call  of  "  Suke  !  —  Suke !  "  —  which  echoed 
far  along  the  level  stretch,  and  heralded  the  cow-boy's 
approach.  Now,  however,  there  was  no  sign  nor  sound 
of  life.  The  earth  seemed  as  lonely  as  the  lonely  skies. 
As  he  smoked,  a  coal  fell  from  his  pipe  upon  the  ground, 
and  in  the  very  abandonment  of  idleness  he  watched  the 
golden  thread,  which  emanated  from  it,  steal  along  the 
edges  of  a  dead  leaf  and  trace  in  a  fiery  arabesque  all 
the  graces  of  the  maple.  Then,  spark  by  spark,  it  died, 
and  the  leaf  was  a  cinder.  Another  had  been  touched  by 
the  coal  —  another  and  another.  Here  and  there  a  twig 
caught,  too,  —  and  at  last  a  tiny  blaze  was  kindled.  Its 
presence  cheered  him.  It  was  a  friendly,  domestic  thing. 
It  seemed  instinct  with  the  spirit  of  home.  "It's  ez 
much  company  ez  a  human,  mighty  nigh  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

Somehow  the  sight  of  it  deadened  his  fears.  The 
Bound  of  it  lulled  him.  As  he  lay  on  the  ground  beside 
\t  he  dropped  into  a  reverie  —  so  deep  that  even  his 
morbidly  sensitive  nerves  were  not  startled  by  the  thud 
of  rapid  hoofs  until  they  had  approached  very  near. 

It  was  a  terrible  moment.  He  sprang  to  his  feet. 
Then  he  seemed  stricken  into  stone  —  he  could  not  move 


88  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

a  muscle.  He  had  no  consciousness  save  a  repentance  of 
his  temerity.  He  understood  nothing  but  the  imminence 
of  his  danger  as  he  looked  over  the  parapet  at  a  horseman 
galloping  past  close  along  the  crest  of  the  counterscarp. 
He  remembered  afterward,  rather  than  noted  then,  that 
this  man's  face  was  meditative,  and  that  his  downcast 
eyes  were  fixed  absently  upon  the  ground,  heedless  of 
what  he  saw.  The  sweeping  gallop  bore  him  speedily 
into  the  distance  toward  the  great  house  looming  up  in 
the  closing  twilight. 

The  fugitive  from  justice  hastily  flung  a  heavy  stone 
upon  the  fire  to  crush  its  life  out.  Then  he  skulked  like 
a  shadow,  like  the  skulking  shadows  whom  he  feared, 
through  the  jagged  fissure  and  into  the  deep  glooms 
within  the  powder  magazine,  and  his  world  of  lunettes, 
and  redans,  and  redoubts,  knew  him  no  more. 

The  sky  was  gray.  The  earth  was  black.  The  wind 
was  dead.  The  only  motion  in  all  the  still,  sombre  ex 
panse  was  the  upward  curling  of  a  tiny  wreath  of  lumi 
nous  smoke  from  beside  the  heavy  stone  that  had  served 
to  smother  the  fire.  Its  fall  had  displaced  a  single  coal. 
This  glowed,  and  flared,  and  reddened  in  the  melancholy 
dusk  encompassing  it. 

And  the  night  came  on  very  dark. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  battle-field,  the  cannon-shattered  house  that  rose 
like  a  monument  in  its  midst,  had  so  impressed  Est- 
wicke,  that  when  he  was  here  once  more  he  had  a  strong 
sense  of  familiarity  with  all  the  details  of  the  unaccus 
tomed  place.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  often  sat  in 
the  dun  light  of  the  flickering  fire  and  the  shaded  lamp, 
watching  through  the  window  the  weird  new  moon  in 
the  cloud  rifts,  as  it  hung,  a  curved,  red  blade  above  the 
dark  glooms  of  Fort  Despair,  then  fell  like  an  avenging 
sword  in  their  midst ;  that  he  had  often  noted  the  bizarre 
reflections  in  the  shattered  mirror,  which  gave  distorted 
glimpses  of  the  gay  carpet,  the  crimson  curtains,  the  stiff 
mahogany  furniture  and  the  family  group.  And  perhaps 
because  of  this  savor  of  old  associations  ho  was  quick  to 
detect  something  which  he  did  not  recognize.  The  young 
lady  looked  at  him  with  changed  eyes.  They  were  more 
brilliant  than  he  had  thought  them,  and  colder.  A  deep, 
rich  flush  glowed  on  her  delicate  cheek.  She  seemed 
older,  more  formed.  Her  manner  was  collected,  and  he 
observed  with  a  sense  of  loss  that  her  smile  lacked  a  cer 
tain  spontaneous  cordiality  which  he  had  supposed  was 
characteristic  of  her.  For  a  time  he  could  not  under 
stand  this  change.  It  roused  him  to  a  keener  interest  in 
his  visit,  which  had  been  prompted  only  by  duty,  and 
perhaps  unduly  postponed,  for  it  was  a  drive  of  but 
eight  miles  from  the  barracks  to  General  Vayne's  planta- 

89 


00  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

tion,  these  being  intermediate  points  between  Marston 
and  Chattalla.  The  mistake  under  which  he  fancied  he 
had  been  invited  still  rankled,  and  he  had  promised  him 
self  that,  after  taking  due  cognizance  of  this  involunt  ary 
hospitality  by  a  call,  he  would  drop  off  and  trouble  the 
Yaynes  no  more  with  his  acquaintance. 

He  often  glanced  toward  her  as  she  sat  close  to  the 
table  in  the  mellow  dimness  of  the  shaded  lamp.  The 
pliancy  of  her  figure  and  the  soft,  black  folds  of  her 
dress  were  prettily  accented  by  the  stiff,  angular  outline 
of  the  old  arm-chair.  Sometimes  as  she  turned  her  head 
her  brown  hair  caught  the  flicker  of  the  fire  and  sent  out 
a  golden  gleam.  Her  silence  struck  him  as  significant. 
It  seemed  tense  and  studiously  maintained  —  unlike  the 
mute  quietude  of  the  young  stranger,  Miss  St.  Pierre, 
which  had  the  ease  and  languor  that  suggested  habit. 
Miss  Vayne  was  alert  in  every  fibre  and  vivacious  in 
every  impulse.  He  saw  in  her  eyes  the  interest  with 
which  she  followed  the  conversation.  She  was  denying 
herself  in  that  she  took  no  part  in  it.  He  had  a  vague 
idea  that  he  had  something  to  do  with  this  —  that  she 
sedulously  forbore  to  claim  his  attention. 

Was  it  possible,  he  asked  himself  in  swift  alarm,  that 
he  had  so  received  her  unsophisticated  little  apology  as 
to  induce  in  her  restraint,  even  resentment?  He  made  an 
effort  to  recall  the  interview  —  it  had  not  since  recurred 
to  his  mind  —  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  what  he  had 
said  was  peculiarly  neat,  even  more  appropriate  than  he 
had  thought  it  at  the  time.  Surely  she  could  riot  know 
that  he  was  secretly  amused  by  her  contrition ;  that  he 
had  laughed  because  she  had  seemed  to  fancy  him  so  su&- 
ceptible  to  her  unintentional  sarcasm.  Even  then  he  had 
recognized  how  gentle  an  impulse  had  prompted  her. 
He  valued  it  adequately  now  that  he  had  apparently  for- 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  91 

felted  her  kindly  feeling.     He  was  all  at  once  eager  to 
recover  lost  ground. 

To  win  a  proud  and  alienated  young  lady  to  gracious- 
ness,  in  a  general  conversation  founded  upon  so  recent  an 
acquaintance  that  only  platitudes  are  in  order ;  with  her 
father  and  her  aunt  solemn  sentinels  on  either  side ;  with 
a  silent,  observant  young  stranger  to  mark  all  lapses  from 
established  usage,  was,  he  felt,  no  easy  matter.  Still  he 
took  advantage  of  the  earliest  hiatus  in  that  weary  sub 
ject,  the  state  of  the  turnpike  —  which  had  certainly 
been  a  sufficiently  severe  trial  while  he  travelled  it. 

He  addressed  an  observation  directly  to  her,  although 
le  could  think  of  nothing  more  felicitous  to  say  than  — 

"  As  the  spring  advances  the  road  will  be  better,  and  I 
tssure  you,  Miss  Vayne,  it  is  a  very  picturesque  drive  to 
jhe  barracks.  I  hope  that  some  Sunday  afternoon  you 
will  come  with  your  aunt  and  Miss  St.  Pierre  and  witness 
dress  parade." 

Marcia  looked  smilingly  from  her  aunt  to  Miss  St. 
Pierre,  as  if  submitting  the  question. 

"  Oh,  delightful ! "  cried  Mrs.  Kirby,  amiably  effusive. 

"No  doubt  it  is  very  interesting,"  murmured  Miss 
St.  Pierre. 

Mrs.  Kirby's  face  grew  abruptly  grave,  as  if  the  sins  of 
many  sinful  years  had  suddenly  found  her  out. 

"Oh  —  but,  dear  me  —  now  I  come  to  think  of  it 
—  Sunday  afternoon  —  yes,"  she  said,  in  an  appalled 
staccato,  her  waving  curls  stilled  into  becoming  solemn 
ity. 

An  ethical  discussion  with  the  old  lady  was  hardly 
what  Estwicke  wanted.  Once  more  he  fixed  his  eyes  on 
Marcia.  -* 

"Do  you  think  it  too  frivolous  an  entertainment  for 
Sunday  afternoon?  All  the  ladies  in  M.irston  come." 


92  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS    FOUGHT. 

The  girl's  cheek  dimpled.  Her  sudden  laughter  broke 
upon  the  air. 

"  Thank  you  for  suggesting  '  the  ladies  of  Marston ! ' 
In  a  case  of  conscience  nothing  is  so  valuable  as  a  pre 
cedent,"  she  cried,  joyously. 

Estwicke  was  a  trifle  confused  by  having  this  senti 
ment  attributed  to  him,  and  Mrs.  Kirby  rustled  hastily  to 
the  rescue. 

"  Not  that  I  mean  to  imply  that  the  dress  parade  is  in 
itself  sinful  on  Sunday.  I  —  well  —  I,  myself  —  I  don't 
judge  of  that  —  yes  —  I  don't  judge  —  for  military  men 
have  no  —  no  —  " 

"No  souls  to  be  saved?"  suggested  Marcia,  raiding 
like  a  guerrilla  through  the  conversation. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  child ! "  protested  Mrs.  Kirby,  aghast. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Aunt  Alice.  Don't  let  me  inter 
rupt  you.  You  were  saying  that  military  men  have 
no  —  "  She  paused,  expectant. 

In  breaking  her  silence  her  mood  had  changed.  A 
daring  spirit  was  shining  in  her  eyes.  She  had  a  freakish 
delight  in  her  aunt's  embarrassment  and  involution  of 
explanation.  Mrs.  Kirby  was  eagerly  desirous  not  to 
seem  to  reflect  on  Captain  Estwicke  and  his  Sunday 
parade,  but  was  bewildered  by  Marcia's  conduct,  which 
she  supposed  was  inadvertent. 

"I  meant  that  military  men  have  peculiar  duties, 
and—" 

"  Very  peculiar,  if  one  of  them  is  to  break  the  Sabbath," 
cried  the  bushwhacker,  harassing  the  enemy's  march. 

"  Perhaps  the  life  does  not  tend  to  foster  a  sense  of 
religious  responsibility,"  said  Estwicke,  demurely,  com- 
miserating  the  old  lady's  anfciety. 

"  I  did  n't  mean  that,  exactly.  I  meant  —  I  meant  — " 
Then  Mrs.  Kirby  plucked  up  a  little  spirit.  "  It  is  very 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  93 

hard  that  I  should  have  to  fight  the  battles  of  the  mili 
tary  men"  she  said.  "You  should  resent  these  reflec 
tions,  Captain  Estwicke." 

"  I  am  too  wary  a  soldier  to  give  battle  to  a  superior 
force,"  Estwicke  declared.  "I  am  retreating  in  good 
order." 

The  girl  had  the  grace  to  be  a  little  ashamed.  She 
was  still  laughing,  but  she  did  not  look  at  him,  and  she 
blushed. 

"  And  you  ought  to  remember,  Marcia,  that  your  father 
is  a  soldier,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Kirby,  reprehensively. 

"Oh,"  cried  Marcia,  altogether  reckless,  and  rejoiced 
to  throw  a  bomb  into  the  cowering  circle,  "  that  kind  of 
soldier  has  —  has  gone  out  of  fashion." 

She  was  frightened  when  she  had  said  this,  and  a  sud 
den  grave  pause  ensued. 

"  How  far  are  the  barracks  from  Marston,  Captain  ? " 
asked  General  Vayne,  feeling  bound  to  interfere.  He 
was  a  serious  and  earnest  man,  a  little  slow ;  he  had  had 
no  large  experience  of  the  world,  and  he  did  not  pretend 
to  understand  women.  In  a  girl,  the  general  feminine 
incomprehensibilities  were  enhanced  by  the  caprice  of 
youth,  and  he  made  no  effort  to  tackle  the  problems 
which  Marcia  daily  suggested.  What  she  had  just  said 
seemed  to  him  singularly  inappropriate,  but  he  did  not 
even  wonder  how  she  had  happened  to  say  it.  He  was 
relieved  to  see  that  she  had  subsided  at  last,  and  that 
Estwicke  entered  with  unimpaired  gayety  upon  the  new 
theme. 

For  Estwicke  was  pleased  and  flattered.  It  is  true  he 
began  to  understand  that  she  regretted  her  apology  and 
had  repented  of  her  repentance.  She  evidently  wished 
him  to  think  that  it  was  a  matter  of  no  such  paramount 
importance  to  her  as  it  had  seemed  then ;  that  she  had 


9i  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

no  special  solicitude  about  hurting  his  feelings  and  jarring 
his  prejudices.  In  order  to  convince  him  of  this  she  was 
handling  them  sufficiently  carelessly  now.  But  she  only 
succeeded  in  convincing  him  that  she  had  thought  much 
about  him,  and  that  she  had  schemed  in  her  innocent  and 
inexpert  fashion  to  produce  these  impressions  upon  him. 
He  deprecated  infinitely  wounding  her  pride  and  sustain 
ing  her  resentment,  and  once  more  he  sought  to  conciliate 
her.  With  that  smoothness  and  suavity  which  were  evi 
dently  only  superimposed  upon  his  manner,  having  no 
root  in  the  rougher  material  of  his  character,  and  which 
affected  her  as  an  exponent  of  worldliness  and  insincerity, 
he  again  addressed  her. 

"  What  amusements  do  you  have  in  Chattalla  in  win 
ter  —  no  sleighing  nor  skating,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  hardly  know  how  to  describe  the  amusements. 
We  have  the  rain  and  the  mud." 

Estwicke  laughed.  "Oh,  that  sort  of  gayety!  You 
have  been  deprived  of  it  for  the  last  three  weeks." 

"  Singular  drought,  sir,  for  this  time  of  the  year ;  pro 
tracted,  sir,  —  very,  indeed,"  said  General  Vayne,  with  a 
planter's  chronic  disaffection  with  the  elements. 

"  It  looks  like  rain  this  evening  —  very  cloudy,"  said 
Estwicke.  He  watched  the  glowing  fire  for  a  moment  in 
silence.  "  The  wind  is  rising,"  he  added. 

A  meditative  pause  ensued. 

"  That  so^ind,"  said  General  Vayne,  slowly,  "  is  not  the 
wind." 

His  eyes,  too,  were  fixed  absently  on  the  fire,  but  as 
Estwicke  lifted  his  head  he  became  all  at  once  conscious 
that  the  others  were  watching  him  with  some  strange, 
furtive  meaning,  some  intent  expectation.  A  yearning 
sense  of  desolation  had  struck  suddenly  across  the  warm 
domestic  atmosphere,  and  although  an  alien  it  shared  the 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

hearth  with  them.  The  hickory  logs  flung  jets  of  sparks 
and  long,  quivering  plumes  of  flame  high  up  the  chim 
ney;  the  fender  glittered  as  if  set  with  scintillating 
jewels;  the  faces  of  the  girls  bloomed  like  rare  exotics. 
In  this  quiet  sanctuary  of  home  even  the  hot  hearts  of 
tiiC  men  were  fain  to  beat  calmly.  The  shattered  mirror 
reflected  the  sheltered,  peaceful  group ;  but  oh,  for  the 
battle-field  without!  and  oh,  for  the  graves  beyond  the 
river ! 

The  earth  pulsated  with  a  strong  tremor ;  the  windows 
ehook  with  a  responsive  vibration ;  all  the  air  thrilled  and 
shivered  with  a  tumultuous  throb. 

"  It  is  a  drum ! "  cried  Estwicke. 

He  was  unprepared  for  the  effect  of  his  words. 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Kirby. 

"Oh,  surely  you  don't  recognize  it,  too,"  cried  Miss 
St.  Pierre,  her  soft  voice  strangely  agitated. 

He  faced  round  and  looked  at  them  in  amaze. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  "  he  said,  interrogatively.  They 
made  no  reply,  and  he  turned  toward  Miss  Vayne.  She 
was  softly  biting  her  under-lip,  and  looking  at  her  friend 
with  eyes  suffused  with  laughter. 

"  I  begin  to  think,  Antoinette,"  she  said,  "  that  you  are 
superstitious ;  you  really  believe  the  battle-field  is  haunted 
by  the  dead  soldiers." 

Only  Mrs.  Kirby  observed  that  Estwicke  recoiled  as 
if  from  a  blow.  His  face  was  pale,  rigid,  and  very 
grave,  but  it  had,  even  in  its  gravity,  a  consciousness 
of  self-betrayal.  He  visibly  strove  to  regain  his  com 
posure. 

"I  hardly  think  Tarn  superstitious,  Marcia,"  returned 
Miss  St.  Pierre,  speaking  with  more  animation  than  usual, 
and  with  a  shade  of  annoyance  in  her  voice,  "  but  you 
have  positively  no  imagination." 


96  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

"  What  you  call  your  imagination  seems  to  be  only  a 
thorn  in  your  side." 

"Perhaps  what  she  calls  her  imagination  might  be 
translated  as  a  heart,"  said  Mrs.  Kirby,  blandly  allying 
herself  with  the  visitor. 

"  And  what  is  a  heart  but  a  thorn  in  the  side ! "  cried 
Marcia,  joyously. 

General  Vayne  began  to  explain.  "  The  country,  sir, 
is  so  cavernous  that  the  gradual  approach  of  railway 
trains  produces  very  peculiar  effects  of  sound." 

"I  lived  here,"  said  Mrs.  Kirby,  significantly,  "for 
many  years.  I  never  heard  those  sounds  before  the  war. 
Of  course  I  don't  believe  that  terrible  story  —  but  —  but 
this  is  one  of  its  inexplicable  points." 

"  There  is  the  wind,  at  last,"  said  General  Vayne,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  impatient  of  nonsense,  and  striving  to 
effect  a  diversion. 

It  came  with  a  hollow  roar  through  the  vastness  of  the 
night  and  the  plain.  There  was  a  sense  of  a  mighty 
movement  without.  The  tramp  of  feet,  that  long  ago 
finished  their  marches,  rose  and  fell  in  dull  iteration  in 
the  distance.  The  gusts  were  hurled  through  the  bomb- 
riven  cupola,  which  swayed  and  groaned  and  crashed  as  it 
had  done  on  the  day  when  even  more  impetuous  forces 
tore  through  its  walls.  Far  —  far  and  faint  —  a  bugle 
was  fitfully  sounding  the  recall. 

"  Ah-h ! "  said  Mrs.  Kirby,  shuddering  a  little  —  "  hear 
that!" 

Estwicke  mechanically  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  win 
dow.  They  distended  suddenly,  and  he  sprang  to  his  feet. 

For  the  empty  embrasures  of  Fort  Despair  were  belch 
ing  flame  and  smoke  once  more.  The  haunted  thickets, 
visible  in  the  lurid  light  thus  projected  into  the  midst  of 
the  black  waste,  were  in  grim  commotion ;  and  here  wag 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  97 

a  prickly  growth  that  might  be  bayonets  —  for  who  could 
Bay,  in  this  strange  glow  and  this  strange  place?  —  and 
here  was  a  triumphant,  waving  hand  —  and  one  might 
fear  to  look  at  the  ground,  remembering  what  once  lay 
there.  The  pallid  horizon  alternately  advanced  and 
shrank  away  as  the  fire  rose  and  fell.  The  deep,  surly 
glooms  of  the  night  pressed  close  about,  but  veins  of 
flame  were  beginning  to  pulse  through  the  thickets  wher 
ever  a  dead  leaf  might  cling,  and  a  glittering  rim  had 
encircled  the  dry  crab-grass,  and  was  flaring  and  broaden 
ing  round  all  the  field. 

"Some  miser-r-able  boy,"  exclaimed  General  Vayne 
through  his  set  teeth  —  he  was  a  man  of  punctilio,  and 
even  with  this  provocation  he  did  not  forget  the  presence 
of  ladies  —  "  some  miser-r-able  boy  has  been  hunting  over 
the  plantation,  and  his  gun-wad  has  set  the  grass  afire. 
Ten  to  one  the  fence  will  burn ! " 

Estwicke  was  still  standing  near  the  window,  his  hand 
upon  the  red  curtain.  Mrs.  Kirby  looked  at  him  specu- 
latively.  Certainly  he  —  a  man  and  a  soldier  —  could  not 
be  afraid  of  ghosts  like  Antoinette,  who  was  morbidly 
timid  and  afraid  of  everything.  She  could  not  thus 
translate  the  emotion  he  had  manifested.  Here  was  some 
thing  different,  deeper.  It  baffled  conjecture. 

No  trace  of  it  was  on  his  face  when  he  turned.  "  The 
wind  has  shifted,"  he  said.  "  That  fence  must  be  in  con 
siderable  danger  now.  General,  we  had  better  make  a 
sortie." 

Marcia's  face  grew  very  grave.  "  If  the  fence  should 
catch,  papa,  would  the  fire  be  strong  enough  to  blow  to 
the  gin-house?" 

There  was  a  pause.  "  I  hardly  think  that,"  her  father 
replied,  "but  it  is  possible.  I  couldn't  spare  the  gin—' 
and  —  and  I've  a  good  deal  of  cotton  there  still.'"' 


98  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

"  We  had  better  go  at  once,'1  said  Estwicke. 

General  Vayne  glanced  hurriedly  about  him  for  his  hat, 
and  strode  after  his  guest  out  into  the  night. 

There  was  no  moon;  there  was  no  star;  tumultuous 
clouds  surged  over  the  battle-field.  The  glare  showed  the 
great,  gaunt  waste  in  its  immensity.  The  wind  rioted 
fantastically  with  the  flames.  Here  and  there  a  ball  of 
fire  was  thrown  from  the  empty  embrasures  of  Fort 
Despair,  and  fell  into  the  midst  of  the  crab-grass,  and 
burst  into  a  thousand  waving  plumes,  and  expanded  and 
glowed  into  a  thousand  more.  Now  and  then,  as  a  dead 
branch  crashed  to  the  ground  in  the  thicket,  a  fiery  flag 
waved  so  high  that  one  might  see  the  livid  sky  look 
down  —  then  the  flag  was  struck  amid  a  shower  of  sparks. 
A  deep,  steady  glow  in  the  distance  suggested  that  the 
flames  had  given  over  these  airy  effects,  sustained  only  by 
leaves,  and  dead-wood,  and  crab-grass,  for  the  solid  busi 
ness  of  burning  the  fence.  They  quickened  their  steps, 
and  presently  the  younger  man  began  to  run.  He  was 
not  a  light  weight,  but  he  was  swift  on  his  feet,  and  he 
soon  left  General  Vayne  far  behind. 

And  as  he  ran,  a  thing  happened  which  seemed  to  him 
strange  at  the  time,  and  afterward  still  more  strange.  He 
was  not  so  far  from  the  blazing  redoubt  as  to  believe  that 
what  he  saw  was  imagination.  Among  the  slender  growth 
that  fringed  the  parapet,  some  of  which  was  already 
aflame,  there  appeared  suddenly  two  figures  that  walked 
with  a  measured  gait,  presently  accelerated  to  a  soldierly 
double-quick.  He  had  not  a  touch  of  superstition  — 
he  instantly  suspected  that  General  Vayne  had  secret 
enemies,  who  had  fired  his  field  of  set  purpose,  so  that  hia 
gin-house  and  cotton  might  be  burned  as  if  by  accident. 

Estwicke,  with  characteristic  inconsequence  —  without 
an  idea  of  what  he  should  say,  how  he  should  deal  with 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  99 

them,  or  how  they  might  deal  with  him  —  held  both  his 
hands,  trumpet-wise,  to  his  mouth,  and  shouted  to  them 
with  all  the  force  of  his  lungs.  The  crackling  brush 
drowned  his  voice.  They  had  halted  abruptly  upon  the 
parapet,  arguing  with  each  other,  to  judge  by  their  ex 
cited  gestures  —  one  of  them  was  so  wild  of  demeanor  that 
Estwicke  fancied  him  drunk.  At  the  second  stentorian 
halloo,  they  faced  round  suddenly.  Perhaps  in  the  far 
flickering  vistas  which  the  flames  revealed  among  the 
dun  shadows  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  Estwicke.  With 
a  simultaneous  movement  they  dropped  out  of  sight, 
leaving  him  staring  at  the  blazing  panorama  in  blank 
amaze. 

As  he  pressed  on  he  began  to  overtake  other  men,  both 
white  and  black,  chiefly  tenants  of  General  Vayne,  all 
running  toward  the  gin-house.  They  were  inspired  only 
by  friendly  feeling,  for  their  rents  were  already  paid,  and 
the  cotton  still  there  belonged  to  their  landlord.  The 
figures  of  a  distant  group  loomed  up,  gigantic  and  dis 
torted,  through  the  smoke,  and  seemingly  in  the  midst  of 
the  fire  as  they  knocked  down  the  burning  fence  and 
scattered  the  rails.  With  these  grewsome  effects  the 
simple  significance  of  the  gin-house  was  oddly  incongruous 
as  it  came  in  sight,  mounted  grotesquely  on  its  stilts,  and 
distinctly  defined  against  the  black  whirl  of  skurrying 
clouds,  and  the  lurid,  unnatural  glare.  The  out-door 
press,  which  stood  near,  was  like  some  menacing  monster, 
with  its  levers,  huge,  uncanny  black  arms,  poised  above 
the  negro  who  with  a  balky  mule  was  trying  to  plough  a 
few  furrows  to  hold  within  bounds  the  impetuously  burn- 
big  crab-grass.  The  sharp,  ringing  strokes  of  an  axe 
sounded  high  above  the  roar  of  the  flames  and  the  clamor 
,"f  voices,  for  a  dead  apple-tree,  a  fatally  near  neighbor, 
had  caught  fire  from  the  fence,  and  was  blossoming  white 


100  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT. 

and  red  anew.  Before  the  sharp  steel  had  pierced  through 
its  rotten  trunk  it  had  fallen,  sending  up  myriads  of 
sparks  into  the  dark  sky,  and  a  moment  later  the  cedar 
shingles  that  roofed  the  gin-house  were  blazing  timorously. 
When  Estwicke  came  up  the  smell  of  burning  cotton  was 
on  the  air. 

They  made  an  effort,  however,  to  save  what  they 
might.  After  a  few  minutes  of  such  desperate  exertion 
as  left  a  soreness  in  his  muscles  for  days,  Estwicke  hap- 
pened  to  glance  up  in  the  midst  of  tearing  out  the  soft, 
fluffy,  infinitely  bulky  masses  of  unginned  cotton.  He 
caught  the  steady  gaze  of  a  man  with  a  pallid,  frightened 
face,  who  stood  idle  on  the  outskirts  of  the  sweating, 
struggling,  panting  crowd.  Save  for  that  frightened  pal 
lor  Estwicke  might  not  have  recognized  the  face,  but  he 
had  not  forgotten  the  scene  on  the  ferry-boat,  and  Toole's 
expression  recalled  both  it  and  him. 

"  Hello,  my  man,  lend  a  hand  here ! "  Estwicke  called 
out  fiercely.  Do  you  find  nothing  to  do  but  to  stand  and 
watch  us  work?" 

The  man  fell  to  without  a  word. 

But  once  or  twice  afterward  Estwicke  came  in  contact 
with  him,  and  noticed  that,  big  fellow  as  he  was,  he  was 
doing  no  good.  His  hands  trembled ;  he  was  confused ; 
he  seemed  to  see  nothing ;  he  was  in  everybody's  way. 
And  he  was  a  big  fellow.  Estwicke  measured  him  criti 
cally,  noting  closely  his  gait,  gestures,  build ;  then  silently 
fell  to  work. 

The  gin-house  and  press  were  burned.  The  rescued 
cotton,  scorched,  begrimed  with  cinders  and  dirt,  lay, 
nearly  worthless,  upon  the  ground  hard  by.  The  air  was 
still  dense  with  smoke,  and  pervaded  by  the  pungent 
odors  of  charred  cornstalks  and  crab-grass,  and  of  the 
ournt  cotton.  It  had  grown  intensely  dark;  the  very 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE,"  WAS*  F0J703T* .         1.01 

outline  of  Fort  Despair  was  swallowed  up  in  the  black 
night,  and  except  the  sullen  glow  of  the  embers  of  the 
press  and  gin-house,  there  was  no  spark  nor  gleam  in  all 
the  vast  stretch  of  country.  Estwicke  was  looking  about 
for  his  coat,  which  he  had  flung  upon  the  ground  when 
he  went  to  work  at  the  cotton.  He  stumbled  upon  it 
presently,  and,  as  he  picked  it  up,  he  accosted  Toole 
suddenly. 

"  You  're  one  of  the  men  I  saw  on  the  parapet  yonder 
to-night.  I  know  your  build.  Did  n't  you  hear  me  call  ?  " 

So  imbued  was  he  with  the  idea  of  incendiarism  that 
he  wondered  the  man  did  not  affect  surprise,  —  did  not 
attempt  denial. 

Still  Toole  seemed  agitated,  anxious,  almost  piteous. 

"  An'  I  knowed  it  war  ye  ez  war  a-callin'  of  me,  'kase  I 
seen  ye  ez  well  ez  hearn  ye.  But  it  got  so  hot  thar  that 
I  war  obleeged  to  scoot  outern  them  works,  an'  dust  away 
in  a  hurry." 

But  for  the  man's  tremulous  deprecation  Estwicke 
would  have  thought  all  suspicion  of  evil-doing  absurd. 
"  Who  was  with  you  ?  "  he  persisted. 

The  other's  face  was  very  white ;  or  perhaps  some  livid 
flame  had  started  up  among  the  ashes  and  cast  a  pallid 
gleam  upon  it. 

"  'T  war  Tun  Jones  ez  I  started  away  from  the  turnpike 
with,  but  I  dunno  ez  I  had  n't  caught  up  with  that  darkey 
Bateman  —  no,  I  overhauled  him  down  ter  the  spring. 
T  war  Tim,  or  mebbe  Pete  Winsley." 

Estwicke  turned  away,  half  ashamed.  Then  with  his 
insistent  exactingness,  he  looked  over  his  shoulder. 
"  How  did  you  happen  to  go  up  on  the  parapet  ?  That 
was  a  queer  mano3uvre." 

Why  should  the  man  tremble  ?  The  reply  was  eo  obvi- 
cusly  natural.  "  Waal,  Cap'n,  I  lives  not  fur  on  t'other 


102      ^WHEES:THE  RATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 


side  o'  that  redoubt,  an'  it  had  n't  been  long  burnin'  when 
I  seen  it,  an'  naterally  I  run  ter  whar  I  seen  the  fire  fust. 
Then  it  air  toler'ble  good  walkin'  up  thar  on  them  old 
forts,  an'  I  jes'  thought  I  could  run  along  the  parapets  till 
I  got  hyar;  but  the  fire  got  het  up  so  hot  ez  I  war 
obleeged  ter  come  down." 

If  he  had  resented  any  of  these  questions,  which  must 
have  seemed  to  impute  to  him  some  evil  intent,  Estwicke 
would  have  dismissed  the  subject  from  his  mind.  As  it 
was,  he  spoke  to  General  Vayne  when  they  were  tramp 
ing  back  together  through  the  darkness  toward  the 
lights  beginning  to  be  faintly  visible  in  the  windows  of 
the  distant  house. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  exclaimed  General  Vayne,  "  he  is  my 
good  friend,  although  a  very  humble  one.  Why,  he 
served  four  years  in  my  Brigade  !  " 

"That  settles  it,"  said  Estwicke,  satirically;  but  he 
said  it  to  himself. 

However,  he  felt  justified  in  throwing  aside  his  sus 
picion,  since  the  man  most  interested  refused  to  enter 
tain  it. 

He  was  sorry,  of  course,  that  General  Vayne's  cotton 
and  gin-house  and  press  were  burned,  and  wondered  that 
the  loss  should  be  borne  so  calmly,  knowing  that  it  must 
be  disproportionately  large  to  a  man  in  his  financial  con 
dition.  But  Estwicke's  was  a  temperament  to  which 
excitement  is  always  grateful,  and  he  strode  into  the 
bare,  echoing  hall,  flushed  and  warm,  but  feeling  all  the 
more  active  and  alert  for  it.  He  looked  like  a  young 
blacksmith,  with  his  soot-begrimed  face  and  hands,  and 
his  hair  and  whiskers  powdered  with  cinders,  and  his  col 
lar  and  shirt-front  ornamented  with  arabesques  in  charcoal. 
He  was  distinctly  deprecatory  of  the  presence  of  the 
three  ladies,  as  they  surged  out  into  the  hall,  eager  fo» 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  103 

news.  Mrs.  Kirby  did  not  scruple  to  hold  up  her  hands 
at  the  sight  of  him. 

General  Yayne  noticed  this.  "  We  will  go  and  get  rid 
of  some  of  these  cinders,"  he  said.  "  Then  we  will  give 
you  an  account  of  the  affair." 

But  when  they  returned,  he  did  not  at  once  mention 
the  fire.  Estwicke  was  speaking  as  they  entered  the 
library.  "  I  assure  you,  General,"  he  protested,  in  a  tone 
that  sought  to  veil  impatience  and  annoyance,  "it  is 
nothing  —  nothing  whatever." 

"I  am  afraid,  Alice,"  said  General  Vayne,  gravely, 
addressing  his  sister,  "  that  Captain  Estwicke  has  burnt 
his  hand  severely." 

There  was  a  sympathetic  chorus  of  "  Oh-h ! " 

"  You  must  let  me  bind  it  up,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Kirby. 

Marcia  turned  to  the  door.  "I  will  get  bandages, 
and  sweet  oil,  and  flour — and  what  else  is  good  for 
a  burn?" 

Estwicke  glanced  keenly  from  one  to  the  other,  as  if 
doubting  their  seriousness ;  then  he  flung  himself  into  a 
chair,  held  up  his  hand,  looked  at  it,  and  laughed  aloud. 

"  If  I  go  back  to  the  barracks  bearing  such  desperate 
wounds  as  these,  it  will  demoralize  the  men.  They  will 
mutiny  —  desert.  They  won't  stay  in  a  country  where 
such  horrors  are  possible." 

But  his  ridicule  had  no  effect.  And  hi  fact  their  sym 
pathy  was  not  altogether  misplaced,  for  the  burns  were 
sufficiently  severe  to  cause  great  pain,  which  he  had 
borne  with  the  stoical  pride  of  a  man  who  piques  himself 
on  his  fortitude,  who  has  known  the  poignant  anguish  of 
serious  wounds,  and  who  is  supported  by  the  conscious 
ness  that  this  is  no  killing  complaint.  He  had  intended 
to  say  nothing  of  it,  and  at  the  earliest  opportunity  to  bid 
his  entertainers  good  evening,  but  his  host  had  accident* 


104  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

ally  discovered  it.  He  was  soon  reconciled,  however,  to 
the  offices  of  these  gentle  Samaritans,  as  he  sat  by  the 
table  while  the  three  stood  in  anxious  absorption  around 
him.  He  thought  the  pain  would  be  considerably  as- 
Buaged  if  one  of  the  young  ladies  should  bind  up  the 
injured  member;  but  as  that  might  not  be,  he  was  in  a 
measure  consoled  that  Marcia  held  the  saucer,  and  An 
toinette  the  bandages,  while  Mrs.  Kirby's  gentle,  wrinkled 
hands  were  soft  and  soothing  to  the  touch. 

He  could  not  forbear  a  gibe  at  her  old-fashioned  reme 
dies  and  the  amateur  performance.  "  I  can't  let  this  stay 
on  till  I  get  back  to  the  barracks,"  he  declared. 

"  But  you  must  —  and  why  not  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Kirby, 
sternly,  repressing  him  as  if  he  were  a  refractory  boy. 

"I  wouldn't  —  I  wouldn't  have  the  surgeon  see  this 
extraordinary  bit  of  work  for  —  "  He  looked  at  the  band 
ages  and  the  slow,  tender  hand  hovering  above  them,  and 
shook  his  head  silently. 

"  Good  surgery  as  any ! "  cried  Mrs.  Kirby,  strong  in 
her  faith  in  herself.  "  I  assure  you,  Captain  Estwicke,  1 
am  not  ashamed  of  it." 

"  Oh ! "  cried  Marcia,  abruptly  —  "  his  wrist ! " 

"  His  wrist  is  burned,  too ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Kirby  in 
an  animated  crescendo.  "The  flesh  is  baked!  yes  — 
fairly  baked !  You  will  carry  that  scar  to  your  grave ! " 
she  prophesied  with  grieved  solemnity. 

Estwicke  broke  out  laughing  afresh. 

"  What  a  pity !     What  a  pity ! "  he  protested. 

"  Oh,  how  it  must  pain  you,"  exclaimed  Marcia.  "  And 
to  have  burned  it  here  —  trying  to  save  our  cotton ! " 

Estwicke  was  daring  at  best.  This  sympathy  did  not 
tend  to  decrease  his  courage.  He  lifted  his  head  and 
looked  straight  at  the  girl,  with  a  sudden  meaning  kind 
ling  in  his  eyes. 


WHFRE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  105 

"To  make  amends  you  must  promise  that  you  will 
always  think  kindly  of  me  after  this,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Kirby  paused,  her  head  inquiringly  askew.  She 
looked  quickly  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  young  people. 
His  eyes  were  still  fixed  upon  Marcia's  face,  which  had 
crimsoned  from  the  roots  of  her  hair  to  the  lace  knot  at 
her  throat.  Her  long  eyelashes  dropped.  The  hand  that 
held  the  saucer  trembled  visibly.  And  she  evidently 
could  not  speak.  Mrs.  Kirby  answered  for  her. 

"  You  must  be  very  wicked  indeed  if  you  make  us  "  — 
Us  was  the  word  the  punctilious  old  lady  used  —  "  think 
unkindly  of  you — on  so  short  an  acquaintance." 

But  Estwicke  did  not  care  for  this  thrust.  He  saw 
that  the  young  girl  understood  him,  that  Mrs.  Kirby  did 
not,  and  that  the  episode  had  been  unnoticed  by  General 
Vayne  and  Miss  St.  Pierre,  who  were  now  standing  near 
the  hearth  listening  to  the  account  which  one  of  the  boys 
was  giving  of  his  experiences  at  the  fire. 

Marcia  was  very  silent  and  demure  after  this.  And 
Estwicke  was  demure,  too.  He  got  away  as  soon  as  he 
could,  and  as  he  rode  off  he  said  to  himself  that  it  was 
a  pleasant  little  circle,  and  he  would  come  again  next 
week. 

"  That  young  man  has  a  very  wilful  temper,"  said 
Mrs.  Kirby,  thinking  of  his  resistance  to  the  blandish 
ments  of  flour  and  sweet-oil.  "  But,"  added  the  judicious 
old  lady,  "  he  is  as  handsome  as  a  picture." 

Miss  St.  Pierre  was  more  discriminating? 

"  He  has  fine  eyes,  and  he  carries  himself  splendidly, 
but  I  can't  say  I  think  he  is  handsome.  His  features  are 
too  irregular." 

Only  Marcia  said  nothing. 

One  of  the  boys  broke  the  silence.  "  He's  got  a  red 
head  on  him,"  he  submitted. 


106  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

"  Reg'lar  sorrel-top,"  drawled  Dick.  And  this  was  his 
contribution  to  the  evening's  entertainment. 

They  did  not  linger  long  about  the  hearth,  for  it  was 
growing  late.  The  haggard  anxiety  of  General  Vayne's 
expression  began  to  be  reflected  on  his  daughter's  face  as 
on  a  mirror.  She  became  very  grave.  She  seemed 
absorbed.  But  he  talked  with  his  habitual  manner  of 
lofty  cheerfulness,  and  bade  his  sister  good-night  with  a 
smile.  As  he  rose  and  with  his  dexterous  left  hand  moved 
a  chair  from  Miss  St.  Pierre's  way,  she  said  mellifluously 
• —  "I  hope  your  loss  is  not  very  severe,  General." 

"I  have  been  apprenticed  to  pessimism,"  he  evaded, 
with  a  smile.  "  This  is  the  way  I  learn  the  trade." 

He  opened  the  door,  stood  aside,  and  bowed  her  out 
with  his  old-fashioned  ceremoniousness. 

Marcia  had  gone  to  the  dining-room  on  a  household 
errand  connected  with  laying  the  cloth  for  to-morrow's 
breakfast.  She  came  back  presently.  His  eyes  were  on 
the  door  as  he  sat  by  the  embers  alone.  He  had  expected 
her,  but  for  a  moment  he  said  nothing.  She  looked  at 
him  eagerly  —  very  anxiously. 

"  How  much  of  the  cotton  was  burned,  papa  ? "  she 
asked,  placing  her  right  hand  on  his  left  hand  as  it  lay  on 
the  table. 

"  Nearly  all,  Marcia,  nearly  all,"  he  groaned. 

"  And  the  rest  is  ruined  ?  —  and  the  gin,  and  the  press  ?  " 

"  Ruined  —  yes,  ruined,"  he  assented,  with  a  sigh. 

In  the  days  of  his  wild  enthusiasm  he  himself  had  put 
the  torch  with  his  right  hand  —  a  misguided  hand  that, 
and  better  gone  perhaps  —  had  put  the  torch  to  a  thou 
sand  bales  on  his  Mississippi  plantation  rather  than  risk 
•.he  capture  of  the  cotton  or  smuggle  it  through  the  lines, 
and,  to  use  his  own  rotund  phrase,  stain  his  palm  with  the 
encmy'ti  gold. 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT.  107 

It  seemed  the  veriest  fleer  of  fortune  that  now  he 
should  have  such  bitter  cause  to  sigh  for  the  loss  of  per 
haps  twenty  bales,  which  at  the  best  could  be  but  a  sop  to 
Cerberus,  to  meet  the  interest  of  impending  debts,  to 
stave  off  the  foreclosure  of  the  mortgage  that  menaced 
forever  the  shattered  and  quaking  old  house  and  the 
grewsome  fields  about  it. 

She  still  kept  her  hand  pressed  upon  his  hand  —  one  of 
her  ceremonies  in  their  councils  of  war. 

"  Papa,  what  will  the  creditors  take  ?  " 

"  Anything  they  like,  Marcia,"  he  said,  bitterly. 

She  glanced  instinctively  about  her ;  it  was  not  a  cheer 
ful  home,  with  the  wild  waste  without  and  the  gnawing 
anxieties  within,  but  they  had  no  other. 

Then  she  turned  her  eyes  upon  him  with  a  pained  in 
tensity  that  was  pathetic  in  its  helplessness. 

"  How  will  we  live,  papa  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  tense  voice. 

The  strain  on  his  nerves  suddenly  gave  way.  "God 
knows,  Marcia,"  he  exclaimed,  tumultuously.  "  I  don't ! " 

He  rose  and  walked  heavily  out  of  the  room.  The 
tears  started  to  her  eyes,  but  she  forbore  to  follow  him, 
and  presently  she  heard  him  tramping,  tramping,  back 
and  forth,  the  long  length  of  the  dark,  unfurnished  draw 
ing-rooms  opposite,  according  to  his  wont  when  he  could 
not  be  still  for  the  throes  of  his  financial  distress,  or  when 
he  was  only  reflective. 

For  sometimes  his  anxieties  seemed  to  relax  thei/ 
clutch,  and  then  the  interval,  empty  of  pleasure,  of  inter 
est,  gave  him  opportunity  to  review  the  most  important 
events  of  his  life,  and  he  busied  himself  with  those  dis 
traught  questions  —  settled,  thank  God,  long  ago  —  which 
involved  the  righteousness  of  the  Lost  Cause.  Doubts 
thickened  about  him.  Doubts !  And  his  right  arm  was 
gone,  and  his  future  lay  waste,  and  his  children's  lot  was 


!C 8  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

blighted.  And  he  had  flung  away  the  rich  treasure  of 
his  blood,  and  the  exaltation  of  his  courage,  and  his 
potent  enthusiasms,  and  the  lives  of  his  noble  comrades, 
who  had  followed  him  till  they  could  follow  no  longer. 
So  he  was  glad  when  the  screws  of  the  usurers  came 
down  again,  and  the  present  bore  so  heavily  upon  him 
that  he  grew  dulled  in  suffering  for  the  past. 

No  one  suspected  this  —  not  even  his  favorite  child. 
She  only  knew  that  he  was  on  one  of  his  "forced 
marches,"  as  she  called  these  demonstrations.  To-night 
it  was  more  prolonged  than  usual.  His  soldierly  step 
resounded  through  the  empty  rooms  and  echoed  over  the 
quiet  building.  The  faint  glimmer  from  the  windows 
guided  him  —  he  would  not  have  had  it  more.  In  the 
intense  darkness  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  rid  of  himself  — 
annihilated. 

The  house  had  been  still  for  hours,  when  he  saw  with 
surprise  a  long  shaft  of  light  steal  past  the  door.  He 
walked  out  into  the  big,  bare,  black  hall,  and  looked  up 
at  the  landing  of  the  wide  stairs. 

Marcia  was  standing  there,  her  crimson  shawl  caught 
about  the  shoulders  of  her  dark  blue  dressing-robe,  her 
hair  floating  in  confusion  over  it.  With  the  aureola  of 
the  candle,  held  above  her  head  among  the  dusky  shadows, 
she  looked  like  some  pictured  saint.  She  smiled  at  him, 
and  waved  her  hand  toward  his  room,  which  was  on  the 
ground-floor,  and  reproached  him  in  pantomime  for 
disturbing,  with  his  heavy  tramping,  the  sleep  of  the 
guests  in  the  house. 

She  kissed  her  right  hand  to  him,  and  he  kissed  his  left 
hand  to  her.  She  silently  watched  him  walk  softly  to  his 
own  door,  enter  and  close  it  after  him. 

Then,  with  a  wild  gesture  born  of  a  sudden,  mad  im 
patience  with  this  troublous  world,  she  smote  the  candle 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  109 

upon  the  balustrade,  and  in  the  instantaneous  darkness 
she  burst  into  stormy  tears.  She  had  had  her  touch  of 
martyrdom  to-night.  As  she  leaned  sobbing  against  the 
wall,  the  extinguished  candle  still  in  her  hand,  she  heard 
the  heavy  rain  begin  to  fall  in  the  vast  waste  outside. 
She  recognized  once  more  in  the  wailing  wind  those  sad 
sounds  which,  it  was  said,  were  the  dead  soldiers'  cries. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  fellows ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  L  if e  is  so 
hard !  Be  content  that  your  battle  is  fought  —  and  rest 
—  rest!" 

As  she  went  groping  up-stairs,  blinded  by  her  tears  as 
well  as  by  the  darkness,  she  thought  of  that  hopeless  war 
fare  her  father  was  waging  now  —  she  had  a  bitter  pre 
vision  that  it  would  end  only  with  his  life.  It  might  have 
been  happier  for  him,  perhaps,  if  this  new  sordid  struggle 
had  never  begun  —  if  he  were  now  with  his  comrades 
outside  —  outside  of  the  world !  Then  she  shrunk  back 
shuddering  from  the  unspoken  thought. 

She  lay  awake  for  hours,  her  mind  busy  with  the  deep 
significance  of  this  disproportionate  loss.  She  canvassed 
the  relative  obduracy  of  the  creditors,  for  from  her 
father's  experience  she  knew  their  respective  character 
istics  better,  perhaps,  than  they  knew  themselves.  In 
many  an  anxious  struggle  since  the  war  the  cannon-shat 
tered  home  had  had  more  hair-breadth  escapes  than  even 
in  those  three  terrible  days  when  the  world  about  it  went 
mad,  when  the  air  was  powder  and  smoke,  and  the  light 
was  flashes  of  flame,  and  the  rain  was  lead.  She  tried  to 
remember  what  she  had  heard  her  father  say  of  the  vari 
ous  complicated  liens  that  lay  on  the  property  —  even  on 
the  worn  chairs  and  tables,  even  on  the  jog-trot  sorrels 
that  munched  their  hay  in  replevied  jeopardy.  She  com 
puted  the  interest  with  a  dexterity  acquired  in  her  daily 
task  of  teaching  arithmetic  to  the  boys.  Sometimes, 


110  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

when  the  total  was  less  than  she  had  feared,  she  bright 
ened.  But  in  a  moment  some  forgotten  item  would  recur 
to  her  mind,  and  she  would  fall  to  sobbing  afresh,  and 
bury  her  face  m  the  pillow.  Then  she  would  resign  her 
self  to  this  additional  load,  and  begin  again  her  expert 
calculations.  Once,  in  the  midst  of  her  tears,  she  did  not 
lift  her  head  —  gradually  they  ceased  to  flow.  Sleep  had 
overtaken  her,  and  had  even  crowded  out  the  debts. 

It  was  not  a  restful  sleep.  She  rose  in  the  gray,  wet 
morning,  harried  and  fagged  out,  with  heavy  eye-lids  and 
pale  cheeks.  As  she  went  down  stairs  she  met,  in  the 
hall  and  on  the  landing,  trickling  streams  of  water,  that 
insidiously  slipped  in  where  the  great  shot  and  shells  had 
made  way  for  the  rain.  She  paused  at  the  door  of  the 
empty  drawing-rooms  —  a  mass  of  damp  plaster,  fallen 
from  the  ceiling  of  the  bay-window,  lay  on  the  floor,  and 
moisture  was  still  dripping  down  upon  it.  She  looked  up 
at  the  grinning  laths.  She  gave  a  little  laugh  that  was 
more  bitter  than  tears. 

"  It 's  a  poor  roof  you  are,"  she  cried,  "  that  we  make 
such  an  ado  to  save !" 

With  all  this  ruin  to  clear  away,  it  was  to  be  a  field- 
day  with  the  house-keeping,  and  when  breakfast  was  fairly 
over,  she  made  haste  to  be  at  it.  She  went  back  pres 
ently  to  the  dining-room  door  to  admonish  her  brothers, 
who  sat  learning  their  lessons  at  the  side-table,  where  it 
was  their  habit  to  partake  of  mental  refreshment,  conve 
nient  to  the  household  duties  of  their  preceptress.  As 
she  looked  in  a  frown  gathered  on  her  fair  brow.  There 
they  were,  ostensibly  hard  at  their  books,  but  panting 
and  flushed,  as  if  to  master  the  rule  of  three  were  a  mat 
ter  of  physical  exertion.  A  tell-tale  marble  was  rolling 
over  the  floor,  and  she  noted  the  swelling  and  hastily 
wtufEed  pocket  of  the  middle-sized  boy.  His  face  was 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  Ill 

grave,  studious,  but  the  green  cover  of  the  table  was 
drawn  aside,  and  she  could  see  his  hilarious,  brass-toed 
boots  kicking  his  brothers,  to  gleefully  call  their  attention 
to  the  fact  of  how  ludicrous  was  their  task-mistress,  as 
she  stood  apparently  deceived  by  this  show  of  devo 
tion  to  duty.  The  stalwart  kicking  legs  must  have 
inflicted  severe  pain  on  the  other  boys,  but  they  made  no 
sign,  except  to  actively  return  it  in  kind. 

"  Boys,"  she  said,  sternly,  "  attend  to  your  lessons.  I 
will  keep  you  in  two  hours  by  the  clock  if  you  don't  re 
cite  perfectly."  Then  in  an  altered  tone,  "  Don't  let  me 
have  to  do  that,"  she  pleaded.  "  I  'm  not  well,  and 
there's  so  much  work  to-day  about  the  house." 

"Bet  on  me,  Marsh,"  said  the  roguish,  middle-sized 
boy,  with  a  gravely  reassuring  face.  "  I  'm  just  a-stavin' 
ahead  on  these  here  old  'rithmetic  sums." 

"  Me,  too,  Marsh,"  the  others  promised  in  concert. 

But  what  a  tumult  of  the  silently  deceitful  feet  under 
the  table !  How  much  they  expressed  of  the  gayety  of 
the  games  of  marbles  when  she  was  away.  How  they 
congratulated  each  other  on  her  ignorance  of  these  pas 
times.  How  they  jeered  and  gibed  at  her  in  their  fantas 
tic  gestures. 

She  gave  no  sign  of  her  consciousness  of  this  sly 
pantomime.  In  her  normal  state  of  feeling  the  discovery 
would  have  resulted  in  more  trouble  to  the  little  mis- 
treants  than  to  her.  But  now  she  was  greatly  depressed, 
•  dentally  and  physically,  and  she  regarded  it  tragically. 
She  walked  away  along  the  hall  and  into  the  empty  draw 
ing-rooms,  her  face  flushed,  and  with  a  swelling,  indig 
nant  heart.  Was  she  such  a  tyrant  that  she  must  be 
secretly  scoffed  at  and  derided  among  them?  They 
cared  nothing  for  her,  she  said  —  she  had  expected  the 
recompense  of  their  affection,  for  young  as  she  was,  she 


112  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

did  all  for  them  that  a  mother  might.  She  made  their 
clothes  —  no  dainty  work ;  she  taught  them  and  kept 
them  in  order ;  she  schemed  and  contrived  for  their  com 
fort  ;  they  and  their  rough  ways  rendered  the  housekeep 
ing  a  heavy  burden.  She  worked  for  them  till  her  hands 
were  hard  —  hard — she  protested  with  despairing  itera 
tion.  She  held  up  these  hands  and  looked  critically  at 
them.  They  were  shapely  and  white,  but  the  palms  were 
a  little  roughened,  and  this  was  a  grief  to  her. 

As  she  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  fallen  plaster,  waiting 
for  the  one  house-servant  with  brooms  and  pails,  General 
Vayne  chanced  to  pass  the  door. 

Instead  of  his  lofty  cheerfulness  there  was  a  pained  resig 
nation,  almost  meekness,  on  his  face.  It  smote  upon  her 
very  heart-strings.  That  dominant  impulse  of  her  nature 
to  help  to  lift  up,  was  suddenly  all  astir  within  her. 

"  Papa,"  she  cried,  passionately,  "  when  ill-fortune  takes 
the  field  in  force  like  this  there 's  nothing  for  it  but  to 
form  in  line  of  battle  and  give  it  the  bravest  fight  we  can 
make." 

There  was  a  tense  vibration  in  her  voice ;  her  face  was 
replete  with  feeling,  and  all  aglow ;  her  eloquent  young 
eyes  looked  at  him  from  out  the  ruins  of  the  big  rooms 
that  had  been  so  fine  in  their  day. 

He  had  paused  abruptly.  His  hand  stole  slowly  up  to 
stroke  his  mustache. 

"That  is  very  true,  Marcia,"  he  said,  with  weighty 
conclusiveness.  And  again,  —  "  That  is  very  true." 

The  dignity  of  the  metaphor  could  efface  for  him  the 
tordid  aspects  of  the  situation. 

Her  words  were  to  him  like  the  blast  of  a  bugle. 
They  rallied  his  courage.  He  had  lifted  his  head.  He 
turned  away,  twirling  his  long,  gray  mustache,  and  strode 
out  buoyantly  into  the  rain. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  113 

And  she  herself  had  experienced  a  sudden  revulsion  of 
feeling.  She  went  back  to  her  work  with  a  light  step, 
already  beginning  to  evolve  plans.  She  had  a  full  reali 
zation  of  the  terrible  menace  of  the  future  —  of  the 
pitiable  straits  of  the  present.  But  now  that  she  had 
formed  anew  in  the  face  of  these  inexorable  facts  she  re 
turned  to  the  charge  with  the  desperate  ardor  of  a  for 
lorn  hope. 

Despite  her  youth  and  her  effervescent  girlish  gayety 
she  had  a  broad  and  mature  appreciation  of  the  serious 
ness  of  life ;  —  her  experience  warranted  this.  Even  the 
terrors  of  her  childhood  were  never  the  hobgoblins  of 
the  nursery  tales ;  instead,  she  had  known  what  it  was  to 
quake  in  the  cellars  of  bombarded  towns  and  listen  to  the 
shriek  of  the  shell.  Her  imagination  had  been  tutored  by 
the  imposing  spectacle  of  a  gallant  division  in  line  of 
battle.  She  derived  a  commensurate  idea  of  the  grim 
tragedies  of  existence  from  the  sight  of  the  same  crack 
troops,  before  the  sun  went  down,  decimated  and  demor 
alized,  mangled  and  routed.  Her  only  impressions  of  the 
gala-world  were  reminiscences  of  those  hurried  festivities 
in  the  Confederacy,  when  she  had  watched  with  preco 
cious  eyes  the  unprescient  gayety  of  spirited  young  offi 
cers,  who  danced  all  night  and  marched  out  and  were 
killed  in  the  morning.  Her  only  experience  of  travel  was 
in  the  role  of  refugee,  knocking  about  with  her  mother 
through  all  the  South,  a  prey  to  a  deadly  anxiety  about 
the  distant  "  command,"  and  in  terror  of  a  newspaper  lest 
she  might  read  her  father's  name  among  the  long  lists  of 
the  killed.  Her  participation  in  those  mad,  panic-stricken 
flights  of  non-combatants,  sometimes  in  the  dead  of  night, 
to  escape  an  unexpected  insidious  approach  of  the  enemy, 
had  sharpened  her  comprehension  of  an  emergency. 
Perhaps  all  this  had  added  to  her  decision  and  force  of 


114  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

character,  and  gave  her  that  practical  element  of  preco 
cious  management  which  had  been  of  infinite  service  in 
enabling  her  and  her  father  to  readjust  the  fragments  of 
their  shattered  home. 

All  the  plans  she  was  revolving  now  had  a  certain 
phase  of  feasibility.  She  was  utterly  lacking  in  his  mar 
vellous  susceptibility  to  abstractions.  The  case  was  FO 
desperate  that  little  could  be  done,  but  she  projected 
with  a  sense  of  triumph  small  savings  here  and  there  in 
the  small  supplies.  She  would  hope  for  the  best,  and 
work  for  it,  too. 

When  the  debris  of  the  night's  rain  had  been  cleared 
away  she  went  blithely  back  to  the  boys  and  their  ill- 
learned  lessons.  She  was  no  longer  occupied  with  the 
tragic  aspects  of  their  callow  ingratitude ;  here,  too,  the 
wonted  practical  element  of  her  management  reasserted 
itself.  Not  one  second  was  abated  of  the  threatened  two 
hours'  penance  —  even  after  the  others  were  released  she 
watched  above  her  sewing  the  roguish  middle-sized  boy 
—  roguish  no  longer  —  alternately  weep  and  "wrastle" 
over  the  doctrine  of  projectile  forces  as  set  forth  by  his 
primary  philosophy.  Who  so  skilled  as  he  in  the  great 
feat  of  plumping  out  the  middle-man  from  taw  —  who  so 
reluctant  to  recognize  the  scientific  principles  thus  illus 
trated. 

As  he  was  gathering  up  his  books  at  last  his  hard 
hearted  tyrant  put  her  dimpled  elbows  on  the  table  and 
looked  across  at  him  with  a  smile.  He  returned  it  by  a 
Burly,  mutinous  stare. 

"I  am  going  to  make,"  she  remarked  incidentally,  as  it 
were,  "  —  Royal  pudding  for  dinner  —  on  account  of 
Somebody's  sweet  tooth." 

A  reluctant  smile  broke  upon  his  face.  This  beguile 
luent  he  could  not  resist. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT.  115 

Thus  she  made  amends  for  having  had  "  hard  thoughts 
of  the  poor  boys,"  as  she  phrased  it  to  herself,  and 
silently  forgave  the  nimble  iniquities  of  those  brass-toed 
kicks, 


CHAPTER  VI. 

days  that  ensued  were  very  anxious  days,  but 
-L  with  a  stoicism  inconsistent  enough  with  the  impul 
siveness  of  both  father  and  daughter,  they  sedulously 
repressed  all  manifestation  of  this  anxiety,  and  life  in  the 
manned  old  house  had  to  its  guests  as  cheerful  an  aspect 
as  usual.  The  excitement  occasioned  by  the  fire  grad 
ually  smouldered  away  with  its  smouldering  embers,  but 
there  were  other  incidents  of  the  evening  that  Marcia 
wondered  should  slip  by  so  lightly. 

She  constantly  expected  her  aunt  to  canvass,  with  all 
the  fervor  of  feminine  curiosity,  Captain  Estwicke's 
pointed  requisition  that  she  should  always  think  kindly 
of  him  now.  As  time  wore  on,  and  Mrs.  Kirby  said 
nothing,  Marcia  was  angry  with  herself  for  experiencing 
so  vivid  a  sensation  of  relief.  In  extenuation,  she  de 
clared  that  if  she  were  asked  she  would  not  hesitate  to  — 
to  —  explain  —  and  then  she  realized  suddenly  how  diffi 
cult  it  would  be  to  unravel  for  a  dispassionate  examina 
tion  this  tangle  of  thought  and  feeling  —  or  rather  this 
subtle  and  sympathetic  divination  of  feeling  —  in  which 
she  and  a  "  strange  man  "  —  for  thus  she  called  him  —  had 
contrived  to  involve  themselves  in  two  short  interviews. 

She  dwelt  so  much  upon  this  episode,  and  the  "  strange 
man's "  part  in  it,  that  the  idea  of  him  became  familiar, 
and  might  have  earned  him  the  right  to  be  accounted  an 
M  acquaintance. 
116 


WHEKE   THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  117 

Oddly  enough,  Mrs.  Kirby  had  forgotten  it ;  but  per 
haps  this  was  not  so  odd  after  all,  for  the  day  after  the 
fire  she  dined  by  appointment  with  Mrs.  Ridgeway,  the 
gossip  of  the  county,  and  there  was  greatly  entertained. 
When  she  came  back,  even  before  she  got  her  shawl  off, 
she  was  absorbed  in  rehearsing  to  the  family  circle  all  she 
had  heard.  The  news  was  dramatized  by  the  expressive 
play  of  her  blue  eyes  and  her  wrinkles,  her  airily  waving 
curls,  the  explanatory  gestures  of  her  plump,  jewelled 
hands,  and  the  animation  of  the  swinging,  swaying  veil 
that  clung  to  the  crown  of  her  old  black  bonnet.  Before 
these  excitements  had  fairly  palled,  a  new  interest  oc 
cupied  her. 

"  Antoinette,"  she  said,  one  afternoon,  breaking  a  long 
silence,  as  the  two  sat  in  the  flicker  of  the  library  fire, 
and  the  ever-reddening  bars  of  sunlight  that  struck  aslant 
through  the  dusky  room,  and  set  all  the  motes  to  dancing, 
"  Antoinette,  you  are  reflective,  I  see ;  you  garner  up  your 
thoughts ;  I  hope  you  make  good  use  of  them,  my  dear. 
Now,  with  me,"  she  declared,  with  her  gurgling  laughter, 
"every  trivial  subject  cries,  ' Largess /'  and  I  am  gen 
erous;  yes,  I  fling  away  my  choicest  ideas  in  words. 
Anybody  may  have  them  for  the  asking.  So,  when  soli 
tude  and  silence  pounce  upon  me  unaware,  I  can't  think ; 
I  have  n't  an  idea  to  solace  me ;  I  have  talked  them  all 
away ;  yes,  I  've  nothing  to  fall  back  on,  you  see.  And 
I  'm  destitute  now,  my  dear ;  so  say  something,  do.  Tell 
me  what  you  were  thinking  about." 

Antoinette  had  raised  a  flushed,  perplexed  face.  She 
seemed  a  little  confused,  perhaps  because  the  thread  of 
her  meditations  had  been  so  suddenly  broken,  perhaps 
because  she  was  conscious  of  her  conversational  de 
ficiencies. 

"  I  was  only  thinking  of  a  letter  which  I  received  yes 


118  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  \VAS  FOUGHT. 

terday —  a  letter  from  Austin  Travis,  my  step-brother, 
you  know." 

Mrs.  Kirby  stared.  She  felt  that  girls  were  not  so 
naive  in  her  day !  So  he  had  written  to  her,  had  he  ? 
And  he  had  come  so  far  to  see  her  —  yes,  indeed !  And 
he  had  brought  her  their  sister's  diamond  cross,  so  inter 
esting  from  its  associations,  and  so  beautiful!  A  long 
vista  of  romantic  possibilities  was  opening  before  Mrs. 
Kirby's  contemplation.  For  this  old  lady  was  given  over 
to  reading  novels,  and  had  a  cultivated  imagination. 
Despite  her  sixty  odd  years,  all  that  is  delicate,  and  true, 
and  tender  in  sentiment  appealed  to  her  as  vividly  now 
as  when  this  dull  old  world  was  freshly  a-bloom  and  she 
stood  in  her  eighteenth  summer.  Thus  she  was  exceed 
ingly  susceptible  —  vicariously.  Under  normal  circum 
stances  she  would  have  regarded  Mr.  Travis  only  as  a 
drawling  dandy,  and  felt  for  him  that  robust  contempt 
with  which  the  substantial  provincial  magnate  favors  the 
superficial  syllabub  circles  of  fashionable  life.  The  moment 
he  loomed  above  her  mental  horizon  in  the  interesting 
guise  of  lover,  he  had  acquired  all  the  dignity  appertain 
ing  to  the  passion.  Mrs.  Kirby  was  suddenly  impressed 
with  the  conviction  that  he  was  a  very  handsome  man, 
well  educated,  of  good  style,  according  to  the  modern 
standard,  of  excellent  social  position,  and  well  endowed 
with  this  world's  goods.  He  had  known  Antoinette  all 
her  life ;  doubtless  this  was  an  attachment  of  long  stand 
ing,  and  it  would  be  a  charming  match.  To  be  sure, 
people  said  he  was  wild ;  yes,  (regretfully)  a  little  wild. 
But  then,  people  said  so  many  things.  They  talked ;  yes, 
they  talked  too  much.  (Thus  the  crony  of  Mrs.  Ridge- 
way.)  She  had  an  idea  now  to  solace  her,  and  she  ex 
perienced  a  little  wistful  curiosity,  good  soul,  about  the 
contents  of  that  letter.  She  sat  silent,  meditatively 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  119 

gazing  down  the  rich  crimson  and  orange  vistas  of  the 
fire,  where  the  chips  had  burned  away  between  the  logs, 
giving  glimpses  of  the  white  heat  beyond;  here  and 
there  a  purple  flame,  completely  detached  in  the  air, 
quivered  with  so  lucent  a  gleam  that  it  might  seem  the 
vivified  spirit  of  an  amethyst ;  the  red  coals  close  to  the 
hearth  pulsated  visibly,  as  if  the  heart  of  the  fire  beat 
there.  With  these  stimulants  to  her  imagination,  she 
wrought  out  and  shaped  a  letter,  such  as  she  wished  it 
might  be  —  so  eloquent,  so  tender,  so  delicately  fervid, 
that  Travis  could  not  have  written  its  like  were  he  to 
hang  for  it. 

This  aeiial  epistle  was  a  great  waste  —  and  there  was  a 
great  waste,  too,  of  her  sweet  sympathy.  She  looked  with 
a  motherly  yearning  at  the  girl,  who  had  always  been 
lonely  enough.  An  unwonted  depth  was  in  the  old  lady's 
blue  eyes  —  a  little  moisture,  too,  perhaps.  She  was  so 
happy  in  her  foolish  fancy  that  others  were  happy.  She 
refrained  from  speaking,  however.  She  said  only  to  her 
self  that  the  Balance  of  Life  swings  at  that  delicately 
adjusted  and  perfect  poise  but  once.  No  word  nor 
glance  should  jeopardize  its  equilibrium.  Curiosity 
might  consume  her  first !  And  so  she  gazed  once  more 
at  the  fire  and  fell  to  retouching  her  letter. 

It  was  very  different  from  Travis's  actual  letter.  He 
had  inclosed  with  it  an  abstract  of  the  record  which  bore 
him  out  in  all  that  he  had  said  concerning  Fortescue's 
claim  to  Antoinette's  property.  To  the  inexperienced 
girl  the  document  had  great  impressiveness  —  her  title 
seemed  far  more  shaky  than  before.  Her  appreciation  of 
the  value  of  money,  of  a  solid  competence,  of  a  provision  for 
her  future,  had  been  greatly  sharpened  in  that  short  interval 
after  her  grandmother's  death  when  she  stood  penniless 
face  to  face  with  the  world.  She  was  ill-adapted  alike 


120  WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

by  training  and  by  her  constitutional  timidity  for  its  con 
flicts.  She  had  no  wild  enthusiasms  to  serve  merely  in 
underrating  them.  Inquiry  and  effort  only  proved  how 
overcrowded  was  the  profession  of  teaching  —  that  favor 
ite  recourse  of  reduced  gentlewomen,  and  for  which 
alone  she  was  well  fitted  —  and  dependence  or  semi- 
dependence,  the  greatest  dread  of  poverty  and  pride, 
was  not  altogether  below  the  horizon.  The  unexpected 
remembrance  of  her  in  her  half-sister's  will,  after  so 
many  years  of  neglect,  had  changed  the  aspect  of  the 
world  for  a  time.  But  the  knowledge  that  her  title  was 
not  indefeasible  had  reopened  all  these  anxieties  and 
possibilities.  Therefore  she  had  concluded  it  would  be 
best  to  risk  nothing,  to  exchange  with  Travis  while  his 
financial  condition  rendered  this  desirable  for  him  as  well 
as  for  her.  The  plantations,  it  was  true,  were  cumbrous 
of  management,  of  uncertain  value,  and  impossible  of 
sale.  But  they  gave  a  good  income,  and  were  not  liable 
to  be  spirited  out  of  her  possession  by  some  technicality. 
As  she  reflected  on  this  she  said  to  herself  that  it  was 
high  time  she  made  her  decision  known  to  Travis  —  that 
it  would  be  well  to  have  a  lawyer  at  once  examine  the 
state  of  the  titles,  both  of  the  town  property  and  the 
plantations,  and  confer  with  her  step-brother  as  to  rela 
tive  values  and  final  arrangements. 

By  a  strange  chance,  however,  which  presently  befell, 
her  resolution  was  suddenly  reversed,  and  this  came 
about  in  the  simple  routine  of  life  here,  where  the  battle 
was  fought. 

On  this  same  day  these  grave  cogitations  were  still 
uppermost  in  her  mind  when  she  and  Marcia,  according 
to  their  custom,  started  for  an  afternoon  walk  along  the 
quiet  plantation  road.  The  air  was  crisp  and  cold,  and 
as  they  descended  the  broad  stone  steps  to  the  pavement 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  121 

rent  here  and  there  with  its  historic  fissures,  they  heard, 
distinct  in  the  distance,  the  ringing  thud  of  a  horse's 
hoofs.  A  moment  more  and  a  swift  equestrian  figure 
appeared  galloping  along  the  serpentine  drive,  and  Marcia 
was  first  to  recognize  the  "  strange  man."  As  he  rapidly 
approached  them,  he  was  smiling  and  lifting  his  hat. 
Seen  in  the  crude  light  of  the  day,  which  was  full  upon 
the  unique  tints  of  his  dark  red  hair  and  beard,  his  bold, 
quickly-glancing,  brown  eyes,  his  tanned  complexion,  and 
his  clear-cut  but  irregular  features,  his  face  could  less 
than  ever  be  called  handsome,  although  it  was  notably 
striking.  There  was  a  suggestion  of  great  vitality  and 
alertness  in  the  pose  of  his  fine  figure,  but  that  air  of 
dash  and  mettle  owed  something  of  its  effectiveness  to 
the  high-couraged  animal  he  rode,  for  he  was  gallantly 
mounted.  Her  father's  daughter  could  not  look  upon 
such  a  horse  save  with  emotion. 

He  threw  himself  from  the  saddle  and  walked  up  the 
bomb-riven  pavement  to  meet  them. 

"Adopt  Bishop  Berkeley's  theory,  I  beg,"  he  cried, 
gayly,  "I'm  no  matter  —  and  therefore  can't  interfere 
with  your  excursion  —  or  perhaps"  —  he  added  with  a 
laugh,  "  you  might  allow  such  an  impalpable  essence  to 
join  you." 

"  I  have  an  idea,"  said  Marcia,  as  the  three  began  to 
walk  on  slowly  together,  "that  there  is  just  enough 
reality  about  you  to  keep  off  the  cows.  Antoinette  is 
dreadfully  afraid  of  cows." 

"  I  perceive  a  purpose  in  my  creation ! "  Estwicke 
exclaimed. 

"Oh  —  I'm  afraid  of  everything,"  Antoinette  ad 
mitted,  with  the  shamelessness  of  the  feminine  coward. 

"  And  you  ?  "  asked  Estwicke,  glancing  at  Marcia. 

"  It.  is  all  the  other  way,"  she  boasted.  "  Eveiything 
is  afraid  of  me/' 


122  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

"  I  can  appreciate  that,"  he  declared. 

She  flushed,  and  looked  away  and  laughed. 

"  I  hope  your  burned  hand  is  better,"  said  Antoinette, 
mellifluously. 

"Oh,  no!"  Estwicke  insisted.  "It  is  not  better  — 
much." 

He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  —  but  this,  after  such 
a  lapse  of  time,  was  so  empty  a  bid  for  sympathy  that 
even  they  triumphantly  withheld  it. 

Antoinette  had  paused  to  pluck  a  spray  of  cedar  from 
a  little  tree  by  the  roadside.  She  showed  the  berries  to 
Estwicke.  "  They  are  pretty  —  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  You  won't  find  many  now,"  he  remarked,  glancing  at 
the  great  charred  expanse  of  field  and  thicket,  whence 
that  fiery  besom  had  swept  the  withered  grass  and  leaves. 
"Is  that  the  object  of  this  expedition?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  explained,  "  we  are  only  going  up  on  the 
parapet  of  Fort  Despair  to  see  the  sun  set." 

"  We  have  a  glimpse  of  something  like  scenery  from 
that  elevation,"  said  Marcia. 

Estwicke  made  no  rejoinder,  and  somehow  after  this 
there  was  an  indefinable  change ;  perhaps  only  the  wind, 
blowing  from  the  red  west,  chilled  them  —  for  they  were 
facing  the  wind  now  and  rapidly  approaching  the  heavy 
earthwork  which  loomed,  silent  and  grim,  against  the 
gold-flecked  splendors  of  the  crimson  sky.  A  scanty 
fringe  of  peach  and  plum  trees  had  sprung  up  along  the 
slopes,  where  the  soldiers  had  tossed  away  the  stones  of 
the  fruit  they  ate,  and  the  red  clay  showed  through  the 
bare  branches.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  was  a 
blackened,  leafless  thicket  of  young  dogwood,  hackberry, 
and  aspen  trees.  The  wind  was  surging  through  it.  The 
shadows  here  were  deep.  In  skirting  the  dense  copse  it 
seemed  close  upon  nightfall. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  123 

And  now  the  besieging  force  made  its  way  into  Fort 
Despair,  which  offered  no  resistance,  and  walked  slowly 
around  on  the  parapet  and  watched  the  sun  go  down.  All 
the  clouds  assembled  to  do  him  honor,  and  color  and  rejoic 
ing  filled  the  sky.  Then  the  dull,  sad  shadow  fell  upon 
the  landscape,  and  the  wintry  twilight  came  on  apace. 

Antoinette  stood  watching  the  fading  west,  the  wind 
stirring  the  waves  of  fair  hair  which  her  bonnet  permitted 
to  be  visible  on  her  brow,  and  fluttering  the  semi-opaque 
veil  of  black  crape  that  floated  backward  from  it. 

"  Such  melancholy  suggestions  in  that  sky ! "  she  ex 
claimed,  with  a  gentle  inflection. 

"  The  day  is  dead,"  said  Estwicke,  mechanically  strik 
ing  with  his  light  riding-whip  at  the  charred  bushes  about 
him.  "  It 's  gone  forever.  There 's  no  resurrection  for  a 
dead  day.  It  is  the  type  of  the  irrevocable.  And  what 
is  done  —  is  done." 

Marcia  glanced  from  one  to  the  other,  her  eyes  bright 
ening  beneath  the  gray  mists  of  her  tissue  veil. 

"  I  only  see  that  the  sun  has  gone  down,"  she  declared, 
with  her  blithe  laughter.  "  To-day  has  left  its  mark  on 
the  world  —  a  vast  deal  of  useful  work  has  been  done 
everywhere.  And  c  To-morrow '  is  already  sailing  on  the 
high  seas,  and  bright  and  early  in  the  morning  she  will  be 
here." 

Estwicke  looked  hard  at  her  as  he  offered  his  hand  to 
assist  her  down  the  steep  exterior  slope  of  the  parapet. 
The  shattered  old  house  was  visible  in  the  distance,  its 
upper  windows  still  aflame  with  the  sunset,  as  with  some 
great  inward  conflagration.  He  thought  of  its  maimed 
and  ruined  owner.  What  a  support  her  sturdy  optimism 
must  be  to  a  man  like  this ! 

With  a  sudden  acute  discernment  he  saw  her  life  — 
she  was  all  heart  and  hands.  Instead  of  bewailing  the 


124  WHEKE  THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

ruin  of  the  war,  she  busied  herself  hi  picking  up  the 
pieces.  Her  courage  —  the  virtue  of  all  others  which 
appealed  most  strongly  to  him  —  roused  a  quick  sympa 
thetic  throb,  which  was  half  pity  that  so  young  and  gentle 
a  thing  should  know  this  desperate  struggle,  and  half  ad 
miration  of  her  pluck  —  such  as  he  might  feel  for  some 
stripling  soldier's  fine  deeds  of  valiance.  It  was  nothing 
more  tender.  As  they  paused  on  the  berme  to  rest,  and 
stood  there  motionless  for  an  instant,  he  was  all  unaware 
that  he  held  the  helpful  little  hand  in  a  close  clasp  —  as 
he  might  have  pressed  with  friendly  fervor  the  hand  of 
that  brave  young  comrade.  He  did  not  notice  how  deeply 
she  blushed  beneath  the  shimmer  of  her  silky  gray  veil ; 
that  she  shrank  away  shyly  from  him  after  they  had 
crossed  the  ditch,  and  climbed  the  counterscarp  and  were 
once  more  on  level  ground ;  that  she  was  confused,  agi 
tated  ;  that  she  did  not  speak.  He  sighed  —  he  was  only 
reminded  of  the  faith  and  affection  which  bound  together 
that  little  home-circle  in  perfect  peace,  here  where  the  battle 
was  fought  —  such  simple  virtues  —  so  widely  possessed — 
and  yet  he  sighed.  So  he  walked  on,  silent  and  absorbed, 
thinking  —  not  of  her — only  of  what  she  suggested. 

He  had  forgotten  Miss  St.  Pierre.  She  hardly  needed 
his  assistance.  She  only  missed  it  because  it  was  becom 
ing  that  he  should  offer  it.  To  cover  the  slight  embar 
rassment  thus  induced,  she  busied  herself  once  more  with 
the  cedar,  for,  as  she  followed  them  over  the  glacis,  she 
caught  the  gleam  of  the  berries  against  the  dark  green  of 
a  funereal  little  tree  on  the  verge  of  the  haunted  thicket. 
She  paused  to  gather  the  spray  while  the  others  walked 
on  unheeding.  And  so  it  happened  that  the  moment  of 
their  pre-occupation  came  to  be  an  era  in  her  life. 

The  fire  had  been  very  fierce  just  here,  and  the  charred 
tangle  of  vines  and  the  prickly  stubble  of  the  burned 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  125 

bushes  and  weeds  showed  how  thickly  matted  was  the 
growth  thus  cleared  away.  As  she  moved  forward  into 
the  midst  of  the  thicket,  she  said  to  herself  that  no  other 
foot  had  pressed  this  sod  since  the  days  when  the  battle 
was  fought. 

The  next  moment  a  cold  horror  clutched  at  her  heart. 
There  —  almost  at  her  feet  —  was  a  ghastly  row  of  exca 
vations  of  a  shape  and  size  that  told  their  own  story. 
These  were  the  empty  graves  of  the  soldiers  whose 
ghosts  walked  here,  and  would  not  follow  their  trans 
planted  bodies.  She  stood  motionless,  looking  down  in 
terrified  fascination.  They  were  shallow ;  the  rains  had 
washed  the  earth  into  them ;  the  wind  had  helped  to  fill 
them  with  leaves.  And  as  she  looked,  a  sudden  fitful 
gleam  caught  her  eyes.  It  flashed  up  from  the  bottom  of 
the  nearest  grave.  Perhaps  it  was  the  fading  light  on  a 
drop  of  water ;  perhaps  on  a  bit  of  tin ;  —  but  it  was  like 
the  burnished  glimmer  of  precious  metal.  She  did  not 
understand  her  courage  afterward.  She  was  suddenly 
impelled  to  step  swiftly  forward,  she  knelt  down  on  the 
brink  of  the  excavation,  and  picked  up  a  small  fragment 
of  a  watch  chain.  At  one  extremity  it  had  been  cut 
smoothly  off  —  perhaps  by  the  bullet  that  had  carried 
death  to  the  heart  of  the  man  who  had  worn  it  here. 
From  the  other  end  depended,  encrusted  with  clay, 
stained,  too,  she  fancied,  with  some  dark  current,  a  gold 
locket  —  the  memento  of  a  romance  it  might  be,  a  love 
token.  The  dead  soldier  had  left  it  in  his  grave,  and 
here  it  had  lain  all  these  years,  overlooked  and  unmolested. 
And  here  his  story  ended. 

No  —  not  ended  yet !  She  had  mechanically  touched 
the  spring  and  the  locket  was  open.  She  had  only  a 
glimpse  of  a  tress  of  dark  hair  beneath  the  shattered 
crystal  —  and  then  with  the  shock  of  an  extreme  surprise, 


126  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

her  pulses  seemed  suddenly  stilled.     For  within  the  lid 
were  engraved  these  words :  — 

JOHN  DOANE  FOKTESCUB 

from 
"ADELAIDE." 

Her  blood  came  back  with  a  rush.  The  pathetic  inter 
est  of  the  bauble,  found  here  and  now,  was  merged  in  its 
prosaic  significance.  John  Fortescue  was  dead.  This 
discovery  proved  the  fact.  Did  it  prove  something  more 
—  that  Travis  was  working  on  her  fear  of  litigation  to 
weaken  her  hold  upon  the  property  he  coveted  ?  To  be 
sure  he  might  not  know  that  the  man  was  dead,  but 
he  doubtless  had  reason  to  believe  it.  She  remembered 
that  he  had  alluded  to  the  fact  that  Fortescue  had  been 
singularly  alone  in  the  world  —  he  was  probably  aware, 
too,  that  the  dead  man  had  no  relative  nearer  than  her 
self  to  urge  their  rights  as  his  heirs.  Thus,  in  exchang 
ing  undesirable  for  desirable  property,  Travis  would 
acquire  also  her  indefeasible  title. 

She  recollected  where  she  was  with  a  shudder,  for  as 
she  stood  with  the  trinket  in  her  hand,  the  earth  was  sud 
denly  a-throb  with  mysterious  vibrations.  Loud  voices 
rang  on  the  wind  in  its  wild,  unimpeded  rush  across  the 
plain.  The  shadows  in  the  haunted  thicket  were  swaying 
back  and  forth  with  a  convulsive  motion  —  the  fantastic 
shapes  began  to  assume  a  dimly  realized  resemblance  to 
human  forms.  She  hastily  thrust  the  bit  of  chain  and 
the  locket  into  her  muff,  and  as  she  turned,  it  was  a  great 
relief  to  see  her  friends  strolling  leisurely  along  the  road 
close  at  hand. 

They  were  still  silent,  and  she  was  silent  too  when  she 
joined  them.  Already  her  caution  was  warning  her  that 
the  discovery  she  had  made  had  so  serious  a  connection 
with  the  title  of  her  property  that  it  was  not  well  to  pro- 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  127 

roke  an  indiscriminate  curiosity  in  the  matter  until  she 
could  have  the  advice  of  a  lawyer,  and  take  the  proper 
measures  to  restore  the  little  trinket  —  valueless  except, 
possibly,  from  association  —  to  its  rightful  owner,  if,  in 
deed,  the  dead  Fortescue  had  a  closer  relative  than  her 
self  still  surviving.  But  was  he  dead  —  was  this  sufficient 
to  prove  it  ? 

Her  strong  sense  of  justice,  too,  combated  the  impulse  to 
canvass  with  her  companions  the  wonderment  of  this  epi 
sode,  that  was  so  strange  in  that  it  should  aptly  fall  into 
her  experience,  and  so  natural  in  that  it  had  happened 
here,  where  the  battle  was  fought.  But  it  involved  the 
honor  and  honesty  of  a  quasi  member  of  the  family,  and 
this  touched  her  pride.  She  knew  that  its  recital  could 
not  fail  to  suggest  to  them  the  identical  suspicions  which 
she  entertained  of  her  step-brother's  motives  in  the  pro 
posed  exchange  of  property,  and  had  she  sufficient  proof 
to  warrant  her,  for  the  mere  love  of  sensation,  in  exposing 
him  to  this  grave  discredit  ? 

Thus  it  was  that  she  said  nothing. 

Night  was  falling.  The  evening  star  shivered  in  the 
wind.  The  mists  were  crouching  in  the  rifle-pits  of  the 
old  picket-line,  and  had  silently  entered  the  works.  Now 
and  then  she  glanced  back  at  the  desolate  stretch  of  coun 
try,  its  heavy  redoubts  so  grim,  so  gaunt,  so  doubly  drear, 
projected  against  an  infinitely  clear  sky.  The  scene,  in 
its  vast  loneliness,  was  burnt  into  her  brain  —  she  saw  it 
years  afterward  as  vividly  as  she  saw  it  now  —  as  all  must 
forever  see  it  who  once  look  upon  it.  Even  the  house, 
standing  stark  and  silent  in  the  distance,  gave  no  sense  of 
life,  of  a  future,  of  the  domestic  world,  of  humanity.  One 
might  sigh  to  see  the  pallid,  wintry  moon  peering  curi 
ously  through  the  big  rifts  of  the  bomb-shattered  cupola. 


CHAPTER  VH. 

T~T  chanced  that  Maurice  Brennett's  varied  cotton  ven- 
-L  tures  took  him  to  New  Orleans  in  February.  He 
found  the  city  ablaze  with  illuminations  and  wild  with 
excitement,  for  it  was  the  evening  of  Mardi  Gras  and  the 
Mystick  Krewe  procession  was  on  the  march. 

In  the  enchantment  suddenly  turned  loose  in  the  streets, 
the  past  and  the  present  were  fantastically  blended.  The 
Pickwick  Club-house  lent  the  radiance  of  a  thousand  gas 
jets  to  the  triumphal  pageant  of  the  "  Faerie  Queene."  A 
salute  of  artillery  thundered  from  Lafayette  Square,  and 
made  the  hero  of  those  mystic  weapons,  "  Caliburn  "  and 
"Ron,"  acquainted  with  the  realistic  magic  of  modern 
warfare.  In  front  of  the  City  Hall  the  procession  halted, 
and  Prince  Arthure  dismounted  to  exchange  the  compli 
ments  of  the  season  with  his  honor  the  Mayor  of  New 
Orleans. 

It  seemed  as  if  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  had  gathered 
here  between  the  Mississippi  and  the  Swamp.  From 
among  the  banners  fluttering  from  every  balcony  and 
open  window,  and  house-top,  looked  out  Creole  eyes,  po 
tent  enough  to  have  laid  their  languorous  spell  upon  the 
iplendid,  glittering  swarm,  and  held  it  there  motionless 
for  all  time  to  come.  These  southern  beauties  had  a 
pretty  contrast  in  the  fairer  faces  from  the  north.  And 
below,  jostling  along  the  sidewalks,  sternly  repressed  by 
the  police,  was  a  motley  throng  of  every  grade  of  swarthi 
128 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  129 

ness,  from  the  broadly  grinning  African,  the  -mulatto,  the 
Indian,  the  cream-tinted  Chinaman  —  gazing  with  oblique 
smiles  at  the  wild  vagaries  of  the  "  Melican  man  "  —  to 
the  Sicilian,  and  the  dark-browed  Spanish  vagrant,  wear 
ing  his  tattered  garb  with  the  dignity  of  a  hidalgo. 

And  beneath  the  inspiring  melodies,  and  the  cheers  of 
the  enthusiastic  populace,  and  those  louder  iron-throated 
plaudits  of  the  guns,  were  all  the  echoes  of  Babel.  One 
heard  here  a  resonant  German  "  ach ! "  and  there  the 
nimble  Gallic  tongue  demanding  of  a  just  Heaven  if  this 
were  not  too  magnificent,  and  the  neat,  precise  Yankee 
pronunciation,  and  the  languid,  Southern  drawl,  and  the 
Englishman's  broad  "  a,"  of  which  the  swelling  propor 
tions  overlapped  all  the  other  letters  of  the  alphabet. 
The  mirthful  guttural  negro  dialect  rose  too,  mingled 
with  unique  clippings  known  as  pigeon-English,  and  that 
voxpopuli,  slang,  which,  like  "don't  care,"  has  no  home, 
was  loud  upon  the  air. 

Orion  looked  over  the  western  house-tops  at  this  strange 
red  constellation  wheeling  through  the  streets  so  far  be 
low.  Cassiopeia  sat  in  her  splendid  chair,  and  Berenice's 
shining  hair  streamed  athwart  the  moonless  heavens.  But 
the  stellular  display  of  the  ignis  fatuus  of  the  Swamp 
was  soon  over ;  the  Opera  House  was  reached,  the  ruthless 
door  shut  the  rabble  from  "faerie  land,"  and  it  hung 
hungrily  about  outside,  reluctantly  making  way  for  the 
richly-attired  freight  of  carriages  privileged  to  behold  the 
tableaux  within. 

Among  those  thus  favored  was  one  who  had  less  greedy 
an  appetite  than  the  untutored  mob  for  the  gracious  and 
splendid.  Only  a  very  short  time  elapsed  before  Maurice 
Brennett  emerged  and  walked  up  Toulouse  Street — - 
slowly,  meditatively,  as  if  he  had  less  an  object  in  view 
than  a  desire  of  the  motion  and  the  fresh  air.  Little 


130  WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

affinity  had  he  with  this  night  of  enchantment,  these 
beautiful  presentations  and  responsive  enthusiasms.  The 
dominant  instinct  of  his  nature  was  the  instinct  of  prey. 
He  pursued  it  in  his  varied  speculations  with  as  little  con 
science  as  Ms  cousin,  the  "  feathered  hawk,"  pursues  his 
own  peculiar  line  of  business. 

Now,  as  he  walked  on  listlessly,  his  mind  was  filled  with 
complex  calculations,  with  rigidly  severe  retrospections  as 
to  whether  he  might  not  have  been  more  adroit  even  than 
he  was,  with  careful  reconnoitering  of  tortuous  alterna 
tives  of  future  policy.  They  all  led  him  to  the  wall.  This 
realization  roused  him.  He  raised  his  head  and  looked 
tentatively  about  him  in  the  darkness  as  if  he  sought  an 
inspiration.  Slowly  a  purpose  began  to  shape  itself  in  his 
thoughts.  He  paused  irresolute  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
slipped  on  his  overcoat  and  took  his  way  briskly  toward 
the  levee. 

A  silence  had  fallen  with  the  night  upon  the  great 
embankment  that  lies  like  a  guardian  dragon  along  the 
sinuous  borders  of  the  city.  Numbers  of  steamboats  — 
dark  and  silent  —  lurked  at  the  wharves,  their  smokeless 
chimneys  rising  high,  high  into  the  mists  that  hovered 
about  the  great  river.  One  felt  the  presence  rather  than 
saw  that  leafless  forest  of  masts  where  the  sea-going  craft 
was  lying.  The  monotony  of  the  interval,  while  he  waited, 
was  broken  only  by  the  measured  tread  of  watchmen  echo 
ing  along  the  planks,  and  once  by  the  swift  sibilant  rush 
ing  of  a  locomotive  upon  the  branch  line  of  a  railway 
close  at  hand,  the  glare  of  its  cyclopic  eye  rending  the 
darkness. 

He  was  about  to  turn  away  in  disappointment,  when 
suddenly  from  up  the  river  sounded  three  husky,  remon 
strant  whistles.  They  conjured  up  a  hundred  twinkling 
lights  among  the  glooms  by  the  water  side,  and  soon  the 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT.  131 

levee  was  swarming  with  the  dusky  figures  of  lousta- 
bouts,  running  hither  and  thither  with  clattering  steps 
and  an  uncouth  chatter.  Presently  the  white  mists  up  the 
river  were  gemmed,  first  with  a  ruby,  then  with  an  em 
erald  gleam ;  both  appeared  close  together,  and  from  that 
moment  until  he  could  see  all  the  side-lights  of  the  great 
illuminated  floating  palace ;  until  he  could  hear  the  water 
surging  in  the  darkness  about  her  wheels,  and  the  throb 
of  her  machinery ;  until  she  was  swinging,  with  a  slow, 
easy  grace,  to  the  sharp  jangling  of  her  pilot's  bells,  into 
her  allotted  berth  by  the  levee,  the  man  who  watched 
her  landing  was  in  the  grip  of  a  strong  emotion.  It 
brought  a  quiver  to  the  hard  lines  of  his  parted  lips ;  it 
shook  his  hand ;  a  faint  flush  sprang  into  his  cheek ;  his 
eyes  were  eager  —  so  eager  and  so  fierce.  He  accosted 
the  first  man  ashore  —  one  of  the  deck  hands,  who  was 
making  the  boat  fast. 

"  Is  that  the  Marchesa  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sah." 

u  Why  is  she  so  long  behind  time  ?  " 

"  Well,  sah,  disher  boat  jis'  run  aground  ob  a  sand-bar 
up  dere  in  Choctaw  Bend  —  stayed  dere  twenty  hours. 
Den  we  kem  a-bustin'  down  de  ribber,  makin'  de  fastes' 
tune  eber  seed  on  de  Mis'sippi.  Didn't  do  no  good, 
dough.  An'  dese  yere  passygers,  wot's  gwine  ter  be 
landed  too  late  fur  de  Moddy-Graw  is  a-tearin'  deir  shirts 
'bout  it.  Sich  cussin' ! " 

As  Brennett  scanned  the  passengers  crowding  down 
the  stage-plank,  he  stepped  forward  with  a  sudden  look 
of  recognition. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  her  f  "  he  exclaimed,  with  quick 
impulsiveness,  as  he  mechanically  grasped  Travis's  out- 
Btretched  hand. 

His  manner  was  so  pronounced  that  a  lady  who  was 


132  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

passing  at  the  moment,  and  who  caught  his  words, 
glanced  at  him  with  covert  sympathy.  This  was  surely 
a  phase  of  some  delicate  and  tender  heart-drama,  which 
is  forever  on  the  human  stage,  but  which  shirks  an  audi 
ence,  who  may  only  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  scene,  now  and 
then,  by  some  chance  lifting  of  the  curtain,  such  as  this. 
And  so  she  went  her  way,  speculating  futilely  about  this 
important  "  her." 

"Got  a  letter  just  as  I  started,"  said  Travis,  slowly 
separating  an  envelope  from  a  dozen  missives  which  he 
had  drawn  from  his  pocket,  and  handing  it  to  Brennett, 
who  hastily  slipped  out  the  inclosure,  and  read  it  by  the 
lamps  of  a  carriage  near  which  they  stood.  Miss  St. 
Pierre's  letter  was  in  response  to  the  one  which  her  step 
brother  had  written  immediately  after  his  visit,  urging 
still  further  the  proposed  exchange  of  property.  The 
reply  was  a  marvel  of  non-committal  temporizing.  To 
reconcile  its  cool  and  formal  tone  with  the  sanguine  ex 
pectation  which  Travis  had  deduced  from  her  delight  in 
receiving  the  cross  was  difficult.  He  had  believed,  when 
they  parted,  that  she  was  far  more  kindly  disposed 
toward  him  than  ever  before,  and  that,  thus  propitiated, 
she  could  be  readily  influenced. 

But  now  her  feeling,  as  expressed  in  this  letter,  had 
changed  to  distant  reserve.  There  was  even,  indefinably 
suggested,  an  undercurrent  of  distrust.  She  had  come 
to  no  decision;  not  a  word  foreshadowed  her  ultimate 
course;  she  might  have  written  chiefly  with  a  view  of 
gaining  time. 

"She  will  or  she  won't,  Brennett,"  drawled  Travis 
"  It 's  like  her  to  want  to  eat  her  cake  and  have  it  too." 

As  he  stood  in  the  light  of  the  carriage  lamps,  listlessly 
twirling  his  gloves  in  one  hand,  and  glancing  about  him 
with  that  disparaging  superficial  interest  characteristic  of 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  133 

the  professional  loafer,  there  was  nothing  in  the  content 
plative  placidity  of  his  manner  to  suggest  disappointment 
or  irritation.  In  fact,  he  had  given  with  the  letter  all 
anxiety  for  the  future  into  Brennett's  hands.  For  he  was 
an  expert  in  the  matter  of  shifting  responsibility  and 
"  taking  it  easy." 

But  Brennett's  was  a  face  on  which  every  emotion  and 
thought  had  left  its  mark.  He  read  and  re-read  the  let 
ter  without  speaking,  but  with  a  perplexity,  and  a  baffled 
avidity,  and  a  doubt,  which  nearly  approached  dismay, 
vividly  expressed  on  his  sharp  features.  At  length  he 
carefully  folded  and  returned  the  delicate  sheets,  with  a 
significant  glance,  and  a  smile  that  was  curiously  related 
to  a  sneer. 

"Well,"  said  Travis,  "I'm  afraid  our  getting  hold  of 
that  property  is  a  thing  that  will  never  come  to  pass." 

"  Travis,"  said  Brennett,  laying  his  hand  lightly  upon 
his  friend's  arm,  which  was  swinging  the  gloves,  and  thus 
arresting  the  motion,  "  other  men  expect  events  to  come 
to  pass.  I  make  things  happen." 

Travis's  contemplative  eyes,  staring  intently  for  a  mo 
ment  from  under  his  hat-brim,  held  a  sharp  touch  of 
surprise,  and  he  laid  his  hand  meditatively  on  his  silky, 
straw-colored  whiskers,  which  the  lamplight  seemed  to 
burnish  to  a  deeper  yellow. 

"  Stick  to  that !  "  he  exclaimed,  gradually  taking  in  his 
friend's  meaning.  Then,  as  Brennett's  grasp  relaxed 
upon  his  arm,  he  fell  once  more  to  twirling  his  gloves, 
and  glancing  casually  up  and  down  the  levee. 

"  Well ! "  he  presently  exclaimed,  with  a  cheerful  into 
nation,  as  he  turned  toward  the  door  of  the  carriage,  "  I 
have  to  go  and  dress." 

"What  for?"  demanded  Brennett,  rousing  himself 
ftith  difficulty. 


134  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

"  For  the  ball.  I  might  as  well  see  what  is  left  of  the 
poor  little  show." 

And  when  they  were  rolling  along  the  street  toward 
the  hotel,  he  had  no  graver  absorption  than  swearing  at 
the  bar  in  Choctaw  Bend,  and  asking  questions,  that  were 
hardly  answered,  concerning  the  relative  splendors  of  the 
procession  and  tableaux  to-night  and  those  of  former 
years. 

Travis  was  like  a  cork.  The  surface  was  his  element. 
He  knew  nothing  below.  Perhaps,  however,  he  might 
not  have  been  able  to  maintain  his  constitutional  buoy 
ancy  had  he  divined  that,  behind  Brennett's  boast,  was 
an  absolute  chaos,  in  which  not  even  an  indefinite  plan  of 
action  was  vaguely  shaping  itself. 

With  secret  wonder  at  his  own  poverty  of  resource, 
Brennett  only  suggested,  after  a  day  or  so,  that  Travis 
should  write  to  her  again. 

"If  this  produces  no  appreciable  result,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "  I  must  try  heavier  artillery." 

As  the  time  went  by  no  more  letters  were  received 
from  Miss  St.  Pierre. 

And  for  the  nonce  Maurice  Brennett  was  at  a  loss 
for  his  ordnance. 

One  lingering  sunshiny  morning  it  chanced  that  he  and 

Travis  were  in  the  reading-room  of  the  St. Hotel. 

The  murmur  of  the  streets  below  rose  drowsily,  and 
within  it  was  very  still.  The  other  occupants  of  the 
room  had  dropped  out  gradually  one  by  one,  and  only 
the  rustle  of  the  journal  in  Travis's  hand  broke  the 
quietude  as  he  hastily  turned  the  sheet.  Brennett  was 
not  reading.  There  was  a  folded  newspaper  on  his  knee, 
his  eyes  were  fixed  absently  on  the  floor,  and  his  thoughts 
were  busy  with  that  baffling  perplexity  never  in  these 
days  far  from  them. 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  135 

"  The  Tichborne  case ! "  exclaimed  Travis  as  he  glanced 
at  the  head-lines.  "  I  'm  devilish  tired  of  the  Tichborne 
case.  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Brennett  ?  Is  the  claim 
ant  an  impostor?" 

It  was  as  if  he  had  touched  a  match  to  a  fuse.  The  air 
was  full  of  strange  forces  hitherto  latent. 

Brennett  sat  silent,  motionless,  looking  at  his  companion 
with  an  expression  in  his  brilliant  eyes  difficult  of  analysis. 

"Eh!  What  do  you  think  of  the  Tichborne  case?" 
reiterated  Travis. 

And  still  on  Brennett's  face  was  a  fixed  expression  of 
introversion  —  as  of  one  who  ponders  deeply,  who  is  care 
fully  evolving  an  intricate  train  of  sequences.  A  new  idea 
had  been  projected  on  his  mental  horizon  —  vague,  diffuse, 
but  soon  to  be  focussed  in  action.  Even  Travis,  unob 
servant  though  he  was,  felt  that  his  friend's  mind  was 
coming  back  through  wide  spaces  as  Brennett  replied, 
absently,  "The  Tichborne  case?  —  why,  I  hardly  know 
what  to  think  about  it." 

And  then  he  was  silent  again. 

And  so  Travis  left  him. 

He  remained  there  for  an  hour  or  two,  sunk  in  this  new 
absorption,  uninterrupted  by  friend  or  acquaintance. 
Then  he  wrote  and  mailed  a  letter,  and  by  four  o'clock 
that  afternoon  it  was  on  its  way  to  New  York. 

Travis's  ruminant  moods  —  the  mental  process  could 
scarcely  be  dignified  as  reflection  —  were  rare.  One  of 
the  most  memorable  of  his  life  was  superinduced  within 
the  next  week  by  a  casual  meeting  with  Brennett  in  the 
lobby  of  the  Opera  House.  The  performance  was  over, 
and  Travis  was  in  the  midst  of  the  surging  crowd  near 
the  door  when  he  first  caught  sight  of  his  friend  in  the 
jam  on  the  stairs.  Brennett  made  a  slight  gesture  with 
the  opera  glass  in  his  hand,  which  Travis  interpreted  as  a 


136  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT 

request  to  wait  for  him  without.  He  went  011,  experi 
encing  at  the  moment  a  faint  and  fleeting  amusement  that 
a  man  like  Brennett,  who  seemed,  however  illogically, 
harder  and  sharper  than  the  hardest  and  sharpest,  whose 
whole  heart  and  soul  were  in  his  eager  haste  to  be  rich, 
should  nevertheless  affect  a  sentimental  interest  in  music, 
and  to  enjoy  the  gentle  illusions  of  the  lyric  stage.  There 
recurred  to  him,  too,  a  vague  perception,  of  which  he  had 
often  before  been  conscious,  that  men  of  Brennett's  stamp 
usually  care  little  for  externals,  and  that  there  was  a  sort 
of  incongruity  in  the  glitter  of  diamonds  on  his  shirt-front 
when  he  moved  beneath  the  gas-jets,  and  in  the  fact  that 
he  was  always  so  carefully  plumed. 

As  Travis  lounged  in  the  gloom  without,  beside  the 
posters  which  announced  in  gigantic  letters  the  resplen 
dent  attractions  of  "  L'Etoile  du  Nord,"  billed  for  Monday 
the  6th  of  March,  he  watched  carelessly  the  erratic  orbits 
of  the  carriage  lamps  far  up  the  instarred  perspective  of 
the  street.  Presently  Brennett  came  out,  and  slipping 
his  arm  through  Travis's  they  took  their  way  along  the 
thoroughfare  together. 

"  I  have  something  to  say  to  you,"  Brennett  began. 

"  Say  it,  my  dear  fellow,"  rejoined  Travis,  lightly. 

The  next  instant  he  was  struck  with  a  sudden  sur 
prise  that  Brennett's  arm  should  be  trembling  within 
his  own.  The  circumstance  was  significant.  He  grew 
abruptly  grave,  and  turned  an  expectant  face  upon  his 
friend. 

Brennett  seemed  to  hesitate.  It  was  only  after  they 
had  traversed  the  broad  belt  of  moonlight  falling  athwart 
the  crossing,  and  reached  the  deep  shadow  of  the  opposite 
block  of  buildings  that  he  spoke. 

"  I  have  heard  from  Fortescue,"  he  said. 

Travis  stopped  short  in  the  street. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  137 

"  Not  John  Doane  Fortescue  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  sharp 
intonation  of  dismay. 

"  He  is  the  man,"  Brennett  assented. 

Travis  stared  hard  at  him  for  a  moment.  He  was  only 
a  black  shadow  sharply  outlined  upon  the  dim,  gray 
background  of  the  street.  Even  the  light  in  his  eyes  was 
eclipsed.  But  somehow  it  seemed  a  keenly  vigilant 
shadow.  Its  attitude  was  intent. 

Travis's  observation  was  the  mere  embryo  of  a  faculty. 
But  he  had  an  instinctive  aversion  to  being  watched,  and, 
although  hardly  realizing  that  he  stood  in  the  moonlight 
and  the  other  in  the  gloomy  obscurity,  the  instinct  pre 
vailed.  The  words  and  the  gesture  were  almost  mechan 
ical  as  he  said,  "  Come,  let 's  get  out  of  this,"  and  passing 
his  arm  once  more  through  his  friend's  they  walked  on 
together. 

"  I  thought  that  man  was  surely  dead  by  this  time,"  he 
said,  desperately.  "  He  has  not  been  heard  of  for  years." 

"  He  is  in  New  York  now,"  said  Brennett. 

"How  did  you  hear  of  him,  Brennett?  How  did  it 
come  about  ?  " 

"I  remembered  that  a  friend  of  mine  in  New  York 
speaks  of  him  occasionally.  I  wrote  and  ascertained  that 
Fortescue  has  just  arrived  there  after  a  prolonged  resi 
dence  abroad.  He  expects,  so  my  correspondent  says,  to 
come  to  New  Orleans  very  soon." 

"  Of  course,  then,  he  will  get  scent  of  his  right  to  that 
Tennessee  property  before  long.  But,  Brennett,  now  I 
think  of  it,  I  don't  see  how  that  can  affect  our  chance 
of  securing  it.  His  remedy  is  barred  by  the  statute," 
said  Travis,  striving  to  fling  off  the  anxieties  that  had  so 
suddenly  beset  him. 

"  He  will  rely  on  the  disability  of  continuous  absence," 
Brennett,  eagerly,  showing  a  strange  insight  into  the 


188  WHEKE  THE   BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

intentions  of  a  man  whom  he  had  never  seen,  and  who 
was  as  yet  presumably  in  ignorance  of  the  vested  re 
mainder  in  these  houses  in  Graftenburg.  After  he  had 
spoken  he  recoiled  slightly,  and  was  savagely  biting  his 

HP. 

But  Travis's  sense  of  the  artistic  was  too  blunt  to 
recognize  this  lapse  from  veri-similitude.  "  Ah,  the  game 
is  up ! "  he  cried,  despairingly.  Then  with  a  bitter  ges 
ture  of  renunciation  he  flung  the  stump  of  his  cigar  into 
the  street,  f eeling  as  if  he  had  put  from  him  in  the  moment 
every  cherished  prospect  of  the  future. 

The  air  was  soft  and  full  of  vernal  suggestions.  The 
moon  hung  low  in  the  western  sky.  The  elongated 
shadows  of  the  two  men  dogged  their  progress  down  the 
deserted  streets,  and  for  a  time  the  silence  was  unbroken 
save  by  the  rhythmic  beat  of  their  footsteps,  and  once 
when  the  multitudinous  brilliant  notes  of  a  mocking 
bird's  nocturnal  melody  burst  forth  suddenly. 

"  In  thinking  it  over,"  said  Brennett  at  last,  "  I  doubt 
whether  we  are  so  much  damaged  by  this  new  develop 
ment  after  all.  The  project  of  exchanging  property  was 
beginning  to  seem  very  hopeless." 

Travis  made  no  reply.  He  was  wondering  whether 
Brennett's  apparent  astuteness,  hitherto  so  prominent 
in  the  invariable  success  of  his  enterprises,  might  not 
have  been  instead  only  the  heavy  backing  of  circum 
stance —  luck  rather  than  brains.  And  now,  if  luck 
should  fail  him,  and  the  man  who  relied  upon  him  — 
what  would  remain? 

Brennett  presently  resumed.  "  It  seems  to  me  that,  if 
we  are  adroit,  we  might  make  the  appearance  of  the 
claimant  serve  our  interests.  Perhaps  we  can  manage 
her  all  the  better  for  it  —  through  him,  as  it  were." 

Travis  hardly  recognized  the  caution  which,  even  at 


WHERE  THE   BATTLE    WAS   FOUGHT.  139 

midnight  and  in  the  empty  streets,  used  a  personal  pro 
noun  for  a  proper  name,  but  under  the  magnetic  in 
fluence  which  Brennett  exerted  he  unconsciously  followed 
the  example. 

"  But  he,  himself !  his  title  is  superior  to  hers." 

"  Still  he  is  not  in  possession,  and  the  law  is  proverbi 
ally  uncertain.  We  can  manage  him  through  her." 

Travis  shook  his  head. 

"  I  don't  altogether  make  you  out,  Brennett,"  he  said. 

"  Why,  see  here.  When  the  claimant  appears  she  will 
stand  in  immediate  danger  of  losing  the  whole  property. 
Perhaps  she  would  be  willing  to  compromise.  Now  view 
the  matter  from  his  standpoint.  It  is  doubtful  whether 
he  can  dispossess  her  or  secure  any  concession.  It  might 
be  that  for  a  pecuniary  consideration  he  would  let  us  get 
the  advantage  of  the  compromise  if  it  can  be  effected. 
One  half  of  that  property  would  give  us  the  money  we 
need." 

"  You  mean  buy  his  claim  ?  " 

Brennett  assented. 

Again  Travis  shook  his  head.  "It  would  be  a  cut 
throat  sacrifice  on  his  part  for  anything  we  could  afford 
to  pay." 

"  You  lose  sight  of  the  uncertainty,  Travis,"  said  Bren 
nett,  eagerly.  He  seemed  anxious  that  his  friend  should 
regard  the  scheme  as  practicable.  "  It  is  very  possible 
that  Fortescue  would  get  nothing  at  the  end  of  a  long  suit, 
and  have  all  the  costs  to  pay.  And  it  is  possible,  too, 
that  she  will  not  compromise  at  all.  Don't  you  see  that 
a  substantial  sum,  planked  down  at  once,  is  rather  an 
enticing  alternative  —  especially  as  the  man  is  a  gambler, 
so  my  correspondent  intimates,  and  given  over  to  riotous 
living.  Men  of  that  stamp  prefer  ready  money  to  any 
thing  in  the  way  of  distant  possibilities." 


140  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

"  It  may  work,"  said  Travis.  "  But  it  will  surprise  me. 
And,  Brennett,  we  haven't  time  to  prosecute  the  suit. 
You  know  that." 

"  If  she  will  not  compromise  that  is  the  end  of  it  —  at 
least  so  far  as  the  mine  is  concerned." 

"  Well,  if  I  understand  you,"  said  Travis,  in  great  dis 
satisfaction  of  spirit,  "  the  proposal  is  this  —  He  takes  the 
ready  money.  And  if  she  can't  be  induced  to  compro 
mise  she  takes  the  houses.  And  we  are  left  with  the  bag 
to  hold." 

"  The  money  we  pay  him  is  only  a  stake.  We  take  the 
risk.  But  I  am  confident  she  will  compromise.  Other 
wise  she  jeopardizes  her  whole  estate.  She  has  nothing 
else,  you  said  ?  " 

"  Nothing  else." 

A  pause  ensued. 

"  Look  here,  Brennett,"  said  Travis,  presently.  "  This 
arrangement  with  Fortescue  is  what  the  lawyers  call,  in 
their  confounded  jargon,  c  champerty.'  It  is  against  the 
rules  of  the  game,  as  I  understand  it." 

"  That  amounts  to  nothing.  We  must  keep  the  affair 
a  secret  between  ourselves  and  him  —  that  is  all.  The 
proposal  for  a  compromise  will  have  to  be  made  in  his 
name,  and  through  his  lawyers.  And  it  is  much  better 
that  this  is  the  case.  It  strikes  me  that,  after  all,  his 
coming  is  rather  opportune,  though  it  will  bleed  us  a 
little.  She  distrusts  you,  and  she  is  predisposed  to 
oppose  you.  It  is  very  well  that  you  will  be  obliged  to 
lie  low  and  seem  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"  But  this  thing  of  champerty,"  said  Travis,  dubiously, 
"  it  is  no  offence,  is  it  ?  There  is  no  fine,  nor  penalty, 
nor"  — 

"  Practically  none.  That  has  all  fallen  into  desuetude, 
But,  of  course,  we  shall  take  care  to  keep  it  quiet." 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  141 

"  I  ask,"  said  Travis,  "  because  I  never  had  the  grit  to  run 
against  the  law.  I  am  a  very  Jonah  for  being  found  out. 
It 's  my  policy  to  be  above  board  —  else  I  'm  overboard 
in  about  a  minute  and  a  quarter." 

He  laughed  a  little,  in  a  low-spirited  way,  at  his  hob 
bling  witticism.  Then  he  said,  gravely,  "  Make  the  thing 
straight,  Brennett,  and  keep  it  straight.  I  depend  on 
you." 

"  I  '11  take  care  of  that,"  said  Brennett. 

Then  they  both  fell  silent. 

The  moon  was  slipping  slowly  behind  the  western  roofs. 
The  melancholy  tones  of  a  bell  close  at  hand  clanged  out 
the  hour.  Others  far  away  sounded  like  its  echo.  The 
world  was  lost  in  the  immensity  of  the  night  —  even  their 
shadows  seemed  to  have  deserted  them,  only  recalled  now 
and  then  by  the  sudden  glare  of  a  gas-lamp  as  they 
passed  beneath. 

And  presently,  still  silent,  they  turned  into  the  familiar 
hotel  where  they  always  sojourned  during  their  stay  in 
New  Orleans,  and  which  seemed  to  them  as  much  like 
home  as  any  other  place. 

Shortly  after  this  interview  the  races  began  and 
Travis's  anxieties  and  forebodings  lost  their  hold  upon 
him, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IN  the  darkness  of  the  night  the  snow  slipped  down, 
and  the  morning  broke  on  an  unfamiliar  world. 
Chattalla  was  idealized  like  a  town  in  a  dream.  Pave 
ments,  smooth  and  unblemished  as  marble,  had  replaced 
the  wretched  sidewalks.  "  Jerusalem  "  was  a  picturesque 
row  of  low,  white-roofed  buildings,  softly  defined  against 
the  sad,  gray  sky;  here  and  there  delicate  tendrils  of 
blue  smoke  were  beginning  to  timidly  ascend.  The  dome 
of  the  court-house  was  begirt  with  icicles;  its  gilded 
weather-vane  seemed  to  touch  the  low-hanging  clouds; 
the  leafless  sycamore  in  the  yard  was  blanched  to  a  yet 
more  pallid  effect  by  the  snowy  lines  traced  on  every 
branch  and  twig.  A  great  black  crow  was  cawing  from 
its  top. 

The  first  faces  that  appeared  were  of  the  unmistakable 
Israelitish  type,  and  soon  all  Jewry  was  alive.  Then  groups 
of  freedmen,  silhouettes  against  the  snowy  background, 
slowly  slouched  along,  grumbling  because  of  the  weather. 
Last  of  the  three  classes  came  the  soldierly  clerks,  and 
lawyers,  and  doctors,  then-  morning  greetings  complicated 
with  comments  on  the  unprecedented  depth  of  the  snow, 
and  disputes  as  to  the  relative  depth  of  the  "  big  snow  " 
of  1843. 

There  were  no  carts  in  from  the  country,  but  the  streets 
were  soon  enlivened  with  every  manner  of  fantastic  expe 
dient —  from  a  goods-box  to  a  wagon-bed  —  that  could 
142 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  143 

serve  as  a  sleigh.  Some  of  them  were  of  such  grotesque 
contrivance  that  the  very  dogs  barked  at  them  in  frenzied 
surprise.  After  the  one  o'clock  dinner  these  vehicles 
became  more  numerous,  and  Captain  Estwicke  met  upon 
the  turnpike  nearly  all  Chattalla,  on  pleasure  and  pleurisy 
bent. 

But  it  was  lonely  enough  when  he  had  turned  off  from 
the  high  road  and  reached  the  great,  ghastly  battlefield, 
that  after  all  its  woe  was  laid  at  last  in  its  motionless,  white 
shroud.  The  stillness  was  something  dreadful.  The  vast 
snowy  expanse  stretched  out  indefinitely  beneath  a  livid 
sky ;  only  the  sombre  tints  of  the  haunted  thickets  broke 
the  monotony,  until  the  great  dilapidated  house  rose  up 
before  him,  and  he  caught  through  the  library  windows 
the  flicker  of  firelight  and  the  glow  of  crimson  curtains. 

"De  Gen'al's  done  gone  ter  town,  sah,"  said  a  small 
major-domo,  with  an  air  of  importance  disproportionate 
to  his  inches,  and  an  expression  of  affable  regret  on  his 
black  face,  as  he  opened  the  door  in  answer  to  Captain 
Estwicke's  ring.  "  Mrs.  Kirby  went  yestiddy  to  spen'  de 
night  at  Mrs.  Ridgeway's,  an'  de  snow,  so  onexpected, 
kep'  her  fom  comin'  back.  Miss  Anternette  went  up  ter 
Mrs.  Percy's  place  las'  Wednesday  ter  stay  a  few  weeks 
wid  her" — 

Estwicke's  heart  lightened  as  he  listened,  and  he  received 
the  next  item  with  a  sense  of  elation. 

" —  but  Miss  Marshy — she 's  at  home.  Won't  yer  walk 
in,  sah." 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Estwicke  had  found  the  library 
unoccupied,  and  he  was  conscious  of  a  certain  alert  expec 
tation  as  he  waited ;  not,  he  stipulated,  because  he  was  in 
love  with  Miss  Vayne,  —  he  often  told  himself  that  he  was 
not  a  susceptible  man,  —  but  she  possessed  a  unique  charm 
and  interest,  and  he  had  more  than  once  felt  that  he  could, 


144  WH^EE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

with  an  admirable  degree  of  fortitude,  dispense  with  the 
less  congenial  presence  of  the  others. 

"  You  have  disappointed  me,"  he  cried,  gayly,  as  she 
entered  the  room,  and  he  rose  to  meet  her.  "  You  told 
me  that  spring  was  coming." 

"And  so  it  is." 

"  And  so  is  the  millennium  —  after  a  while." 

"  Well,"  said  Marcia,  with  an  air  which  seemed  to  dis 
pose  of  her  delinquency  in  the  matter,  "  life  is  a  mosaic 
of  disappointments  —  the  art  of  life  is  to  adjust  their 
jagged  edges  together  so  nicely  that  they  form  an  har 
monious  whole." 

"Do  I  understand  this?"  said  Estwicke,  knitting  his 
brows  in  mock  gravity.  "Are  you  trying  to  inculcate 
the  moral  lesson  of  contentment  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  cried  Marcia,  with  a  blithe  laugh,  "  I  am  only 
admiring  your  patience." 

Somehow  he  greatly  relished  these  strictly  personal 
themes,  and  sought  to  conserve  them.  He  was  silent  for 
a  moment,  then  said,  ponderingly,  as  if  reaching  a  weighty 
conclusion,  "  I  thought  so  —  I  thought  so  from  the  first. 
You  are  very  satiric." 

He  was  hardly  prepared  for  the  degree  of  pleasure 
expressed  in  her  face.  She  was  delighted  that  her  little 
ill-feathered  shafts  of  wit  should  be  dignified  as  satire, 
for  she  was  possessed  by  that  youthful  admiration  of 
cynicism  which  is  so  marked  a  phase  of  intellectual  ado 
lescence. 

"Oh,  you  are  altogether  wrong,"  sh^  returned,  with  the 
air  of  waiving  a  compliment.  "On  the  contrary,  I  am 
very" — she  paused,  at  a  loss,  then  meeting  his  intent, 
expectant  gaze  as  he  leaned  slightly  forward,  his  elbow 
on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  and  his  hat  held  motionless  in  his 
hand,  she  laughed  and  blushed,  and  turned  her  eyes 
away. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  l45 

There  were  wonderful  depths  in  those  happy  eyes, 
shaded  to  softness  by  their  long,  black  lashes.  They  held 
some  spell  that  touched  his  imagination.  They  suggested 
to  him  deep,  enchanted  waters,  overhung  by  the  mystery 
of  some  wild,  romantic  legend.  And  was  there  ever  a 
line  like  that  which  gave  a  gentle  curve  to  her  under  lip, 
and  defined  her  chin,  and  swept  away  with  its  long,  lithe 
grace  to  be  lost  in  the  knot  of  black  lace  at  her  throat ! 
He  was  struck  anew  by  the  charm  of  sudden  contrast 
between  her  dark  eyebrows  and  the  shade  of  her  light 
brown  hair,  with  its  flashes  of  gold  all  a-sparkle.  As  it 
waved  back  from  her  forehead,  he  could  see,  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  fireplace,  the  blue  veins  in  her 
temples. 

But  why  was  he  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fireplace  ? 
There  suddenly  seemed  a  needlessly  immense  distance 
between  them.  He  rose  and  stood  by  the  table,  taking 
up  one  of  those  frightful  Japanese  fans  which  lay  there, 
and  affecting  to  be  interested  in  its  grotesque  design.  He 
idly  opened  and  shut  it,  and  when  he  again  seated  him 
self,  he  selected  a  chair  nearer  her. 

"  You  remarked  just  now  that  you  are  l  very,'  "  he  said 
gravely ;  "  I  beg  to  agree  with  that.  I  have  found  you 
'very'  indeed.  Especially  on  the  subject  of  the  weather. 
Why,  I  could  have  drummed  up  more  sympathy  at  the 
barracks." 

"About  the  weather?  —  why,  they  must  be  in  their 
element  this  morning ! "  she  cried.  "  I  can  imagine  that 
at  every  blast  they  exclaim  — c  How  nippingly  this  reminds 
me  of  home ! ' ' 

Estwicke  laughed.  "  They  ought  to  hear  you  say  that. 
They  stand  up  manfully  for  c  home.' " 

She  looked  down  meditatively  at  the  fire.  "  They  are 
a  long  way  off,"  she  said  presently,  in  a  sort  of  specula- 


146  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

tive  commiseration.  "I  wonder  if  they  never  mind  it 
Do  you?" 

"I  have  no  home,"  he  said,  harshly.  "I  have  never 
had  a  home." 

His  tone  startled  her.  It  was  like  a  passionate  reitera 
tion  of  some  long-cherished  grievance.  His  sudden  frown 
was  upon  his  face.  He  passed  his  hand  hastily  across  his 
brow,  as  if  conscious  that  a  fierce  intentness  had  gathered 
there,  which  he  sought  to  obliterate.  Then  with  a  short, 
angry  sigh,  that  yet  was  not  all  angry,  he  slightly  shifted 
his  position  in  the  crimson  glow  of  the  fire,  and  turned 
his  eyes  upon  the  shrouded  battlefield,  lying  stark  and 
cold  beneath  the  sombre  sky.  He  looked  out  with  moody 
reflectiveness,  so  long  that  she  wondered  when  he  would 
speak.  Some  inward  monition  swayed  her,  and  held  her 
mute. 

"  How  still  it  is  here,"  he  said  at  last.  "  An  impressive 
silence  broods  over  this  landscape." 

"  All  strangers  say  that.  Antoinette  declares  it  makes 
her  melancholy." 

"Sometimes,"  pursued  Estwicke  slowly  and  thought 
fully,  "  it  does  not  seem  like  silence.  It  is  as  if  there  were 
a  great  sermon  or  solemn  oration  in  the  air.  I  know  it  is 
being  pronounced.  I  am  thrilled  by  the  electric  eloquence. 
But  somehow  my  nerves  won't  respond.  I  don't  hear  it. 
I  am  too  gross,  too  sordid,  too  coarse.  Now  and  then  I 
think  I  have  caught  a  whisper,  but  when  I  come  to  an 
alyze  it  —  nothing !  " 

He  had  forgotten  her  for  the  moment.  His  eyes  were 
still  fastened  upon  the  scene  without,  and  her  surprised 
eyes  were  fastened  upon  his  face.  She  did  not  know  how 
it  was  —  all  that  he  was  saying  seemed  wild  and  strange 
—  but  her  heart  was  beating  in  painful  sympathy,  antf 
her  tears  were  rising  fast.  She  made  an  effort  to  regain 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  147 

ner  self-control.  He  would  think  her  silly  —  he  would 
not  know  what  to  think.  For  an  instant  she  fought  her 
emotion,  and  then  said,  in  her  ordinary  tone  of  voice,  "  It 
is  a  lonely  place." 

Her  words  roused  him  from  his  absorption.  "  Yes,"  he 
rejoined,  detaching  his  attention  with  obvious  effort. 
"  And  are  you  never  lonely  here  —  so  far  from  any  other 
house?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  replied.  "  Whenever  I  go  away  I  almost 
die  with  homesickness.  I  think  I  could  n't  live  anywhere 
else.  It  is  so  peaceful  here  —  so  still  and  peaceful." 

Estwicke  looked  at  her  without  speaking.  So  peaceful 
here  —  where  the  battle  was  fought ! 

"  Life  seems  a  long  struggle  everywhere  else.  Why, 
when  I  go  to  Marston  I  am  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  all 
the  movement,  and  strife,  and  hurly-burly  in  the  world. 
And  yet  at  the  same  tune  everything  is  so  narrow  —  so 
contracted." 

"  I  can  well  understand  that  —  after  these  large  skies," 
said  Estwicke.  But  he  was  thinking  what  a  narrow,  con 
tracted  life  hers  would  seem  to  those  of  her  age  in  a 
wider  sphere  —  with  her  educational  cares,  and  the  suc 
cession  of  dull  old  guests  of  faded  gentility.  He  regarded 
her  speculatively.  How  unconscious  of  her  beauty  she 
seemed.  Had  no  one  ever  told  her?  Was  he  the  first  to 
discover  it  ? 

She  became  a  little  restive  under  his  gaze.  Her  color 
rose;  again  she  glanced  out  at  the  snowy  landscape. 
There  she  caught  an  inspiration.  "  You  are  fond  of  pecu 
liar  scenic  effects,"  she  said.  "  If  you  should  look  out  of 
the  window,  your  artistic  eye  would  perceive  that  that 
horse,  with  the  grayish  slope  of  the  snow  below  him  and 
the  sky  —  just  the  same  shade  —  above,  seems  as  if  he 
were  miraculously  poised  in  the  air." 


148  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

"  And  what  do  you  see  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  —  with  my  practical  eye  —  looking  out  of  the 
window,  see  only  a  horse  that  belongs  to  me,  that  is 
named  Hotspur,  and  that  ought  to  be  in  the  stable  this 
minute.  But  you  would  be  in  an  artistic  ecstacy  if  you 
could  see  him  from  where  you  are  sitting." 

"  Come  with  me  to  the  window  so  that  I  can  go  off  in 
an  artistic  ecstacy,"  said  Estwicke. 

They  walked  together  across  the  room,  and  he  held 
back  the  heavy  crimson  curtain  with  one  hand  that  she 
might  stand  in  the  recess.  The  peculiar  reflection  of  the 
snow  was  upon  her  face,  which  was  all  the  fairer  for  it, 
and  yet  the  delicate  flush  on  her  cheek  was  fresher  and 
purer.  He  silently  watched  her  while  she  looked  out 
smilingly,  and  talked  of  the  "  scenic  effects." 

"And  there  is  the  line,"  he  said  presently,  fixing  his 
eyes  upon  the  horizon  where  the  sombre  woods,  miles 
away,  met  the  sky,  "  that  you  told  me  once  is  the  boun 
dary  of  your  world." 

"  Oh,  did  you  remember  that  ?  "  she  exclaimed  naively. 

He  looked  at  her  quickly.  "  Remember  what  you  say? 
I  forget  everything  else,"  he  protested  with  a  sudden 
mental  illumination. 

A  moment  of  surprise,  the  color  intensified  in  her 
cheeks,  and  her  eyelashes  quivered  and  dropped.  His 
heart  was  beating  tumultuously ;  there  had  broken  in 
upon  him  a  realization  of  those  subtle  processes  which 
had  of  late  changed  his  own  world.  It  had  crystallized 
within  closer  limits  than  hers.  This  curtain  and  this  win 
dow  were  the  boundaries  of  his  world. 

He  never  knew  what  he  was  about  to  say  in  that  first 
ardent,  full-pulsed  rush  of  emotion  —  but  all  at  once  there 
sounded  a  great  clatter  of  feet  in  the  hall,  and  here  were 
Mrs.  Kirby  and  General  Yayne,  bringing  a  cold  blast  of 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  149 

air  to  the  fire  with  them,  and  bringing  also  Mrs.  Kiiby's 
chosen  intimate,  Mrs.  Ridgeway. 

"  Oh,  Marcia,  my  dear ! "  cried  Mrs.  Ridgeway,  shortly 
after  the  salutations,  "  the  sleighing !  We  went  all  the  way 
to  Mrs.  Percy's.  You  could  never  imagine  it !  " 

Mrs.  Ridgeway  was  a  short,  rubicund,  stout  old  lady, 
and  in  all  her  sixty  odd  years  she  had  never  before  been 
in  a  sleigh. 

"And  that  reminds  me,"  she  continued  in  so  animated 
a  tone,  that  it  riveted  general  attention  upon  her.  "  Mrs. 
Percy  told  us  to-day  that  her  son  is  coming  home  in  a  few 
weeks." 

"Won't  that  be  rather  early  for  him  to  leave  New 
Orleans  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Kirby,  blandly. 

"Well,  yes.  I  should  think  so  if  I  were  in  his 
place.  But  I  suppose  he  is  soon  tired  of  town.  There 
seems  to  be  some  powerful  magnet  in  this  dull  country 
neighborhood  for  Horace  Percy.  He  is  always  coming 
back." 

She  glanced  at  Marcia  with  an  archness  which  seemed 
to  Estwicke  odiously  knowing.  He  turned  his  eyes  in 
stantly  upon  the  young  girl.  She  was  blushing  and  em 
barrassed. 

The  mere  mention  of  this  man,  of  whose  existence  he 
had  hitherto  been  unaware,  sent  a  hot  thrill  through  his 
blood.  The  man's  name  was  Percy.  And  she  called  her 
horse  —  Hotspur. 

In  the  few  moments  that  he  remained  after  this,  there 
was  an  alteration  in  his  manner.  He  was  pre-occupied, 
and  an  accession  of  formality  was  noticeable  in  his  voice, 
his  phrasings,  even  his  bow,  as  he  took  leave.  And 
presently  he  was  gliding  over  the  snow  in  the  crisp 
cutting  air,  remembering  only  how  she  had  blushed  and 
faltered  when  she  was  told  that  man  was  coming. 


150  WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

That  man's  name  was  Percy.  And  she  called  her  horse  — 
Hotspur ! 

It  was  dark  before  he  arrived  at  Chattalla,  and  in 
tensely  cold.  He  had  taken  out  a  cigar,  but  found,  hi 
great  annoyance,  that  he  had  no  match.  He  made  the 
last  mile  in  very  quick  tune,  and  when  he  reached  town 
he  pulled  up  at  the  book-store.  A  tattered  black  urchin 
was  lounging  about  the  sidewalk,  and  to  him  Estwicke 
tossed  the  lines  as  he  alighted. 

u  Hi,  boss ! "  shouted  the  little  darkey  after  his  em 
ployer,  shrewdly  desirous  of  settling  the  amount  of  his 
emolument  beforehand.  "  Yer  Ve  got  ter  gimme  a  quar 
ter  for  holdin'  disher  hoss  in  disher  kind  o'  wedder.  You 
heah  me ! " 

"  I  '11  give  you  a  quarter  and  confound  you !  "  exclaimed 
Estwicke,  irritably,  as  he  disappeared  within. 

The  book-store  served  Chattalla  in  the  stead  of  a  club 
house,  but  it  was  almost  deserted  now,  the  coteries  that 
were  wont  to  assemble  here  having  gone  home  to  tea.  The 
clerk  behind  the  counter,  and  a  solitary  figure  sitting  by 
the  stove  at  the  further  end  of  the  store,  were  of  a  lone 
some  aspect.  Estwicke  recognized  in  the  latter  Mr. 
Ridgeway,  and  after  a  momentary  hesitation  he  strode 
back  into  this  dim  perspective.  There  was  to  be  a  poli 
tical  meeting  and  speaking  this  evening  at  the  court 
house,  and  Mr.  Ridgeway  had  come  to  town  to  attend ; 
he  was  now  awaiting  the  time  appointed  for  the  political 
potentate  to  give  his  fellow-citizens  the  benefit  of  his 
newly  discovered  method  of  saving  the  country.  He 
took  his  cigar  from  his  mouth  and  greeted  Estwicke 
with  — 

"  Come  in,  Captain,  come  in.  Almost  frozen,  hey  ?  1 
should  think  you  would  be  more  accustomed  to  the  cold." 

"  Don't  know  why,"  said  Estwicke  shortly. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  151 

"  That 's  a  fact.  I  always  forget  that  you  are  a  South 
erner." 

Estwicke  sat  down,  placing  his  feet  companionably  be 
side  Mr.  Ridgeway's  on  the  fender  of  the  stove. 

"  Can't  say,  Captain,  that  I  think  this  Arctic  weather 
improves  Chattalla." 

"Chattalla  seems  on  the  down  grade,"  returned  Est 
wicke.  "No  business,  I  should  think  —  except  in  the 
line  of  the  Jews.  They  seem  to  have  a  pretty  soft 
thing." 

"  Taking  the  town,"  assented  Mr.  Ridgeway. 

"Raise  cotton?"  asked  Estwicke,  jerkily,  pulling  at 
his  cigar. 

"Jews  don't,"  replied  Mr.  Ridgeway,  also  jerkily. 
"  They  raise  greenbacks.  Don't  plant  at  all ;  show  their 
sense;  planting  these  days  will  break  any  man.  Speak 
from  experience." 

"  I  mean  the  people  generally,"  said  Estwicke. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  they  raise  cotton ;  all  the  old  set  do.  It 's 
their  ruin  —  prices  down  to  nothing,  and  still  they  keep 
planting  —  straight  along.  But,  Lord,"  continued  the 
old  gentleman,  sweepingly,  "everybody  is  broke  —  flat 
as  a  flounder,  sir.  It  really  makes  no  difference  what 
they  do  now,  I  suppose  —  impossible  to  aggravate  that 
fact.  There's  not  a  man  in  this  county  who  is  not 
wof ully  reduced  —  wofully  reduced,  sir,  except,  of  course, 
Horace  Percy,  and  he  is  richer  than  he  ever  was." 

There  came  a  sudden  change  into  Estwicke's  face.  His 
eyes  were  lighted  with  interest,  and  his  color  rose.  Still 
he  would  not  ask  a  question.  But  after  a  long,  retro 
spective  pause,  Mr.  Ridgeway  —  waving  aside  the 
wreaths  of  smoke  that  floated  about  his  head  —  con 
tinued  of  his  own  accord. 

•'Horace's  good   luck  is  all  owing  to  his  uncle,  olrl 


152  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

Colonel  Percy  —  Colonel  by  couitesy,  you  know.  Be 
tween  you  and  me  and  the  gate-post,  old  Walter  Percy 
is  a  fool  about  everything  in  this  world  except  money. 
But  he  is  the  longest-headed  old  sinner  about  money  that 
ever  was  seen.  When  the  war  began  this  young  fellow 
had  a  fine  estate  by  his  father's  will,  and  his  uncle  was 
his  guardian.  By  the  time  the  first  guns  were  fired  old 
Walter  Percy  had  sold  plantations,  negroes,  stock,  every 
thing.  He  knew  their  day  was  over.  He  foresaw  how 
it  was  all  going  to  encf.  What  do  you  suppose  that  old 
fox  did  with  the  money?  Bought  United  States  bonds. 
People  thought  he  was  crazy!  The  lower  bonds  went 
the  more  old  Walter  Percy  bought.  Well,  the  event 
justified  him.  His  finesse  has  made  Horace  a  rich  fel 
low." 

Estwicke  smoked  in  silence,  and  after  another  long 
pause  Mr.  Ridgeway  continued,  — 

"  People  are  so  fond  of  exaggerating  —  liars,  you  know. 
They  say  Horace  Percy  is  worth  a  million  —  and  that  'a 
bosh.  I  am  in  a  position  to  know.  Five  hundred  thou 
sand  would  amply  cover  all  he 's  got.  Half  a  million, 
sir  —  scant." 

"Is  that  all?"  said  Estwicke,  satirically. 

The  old  gentleman  misapprehended  him. 

"Of  course  I  know  there  are  vastly  richer  men  else 
where,  and  were  here  before  the  war.  General  Vayne, 
for  instance,  could  have  pocketed  all  the  Percys,  scot  and 
lot.  But  here,  and  now,  a  man  as  rich  as  Horace  Percy 
is  a  rare  bird.  If  anybody  deserves  good  fortune  Horace 
does.  You  have  never  met  him  ?  Well,  you  will,  pro 
bably,  as  you  come  down  here  once  in  a  while.  Yes, 
Horace  Percy  is  a  fine  fellow ;  good  as  gold,  and  gener 
ous  to  a  fault  —  a  little  too  reckless  and  headstrong,  per 
haps.  But  that  is  the  natural  effervescence  of  youth  and 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  153 

animal  spirits,  you  know.  Horace  is  a  whole-souled,  high- 
mettled,  ardent "  — 

—  "A  sort  of  a  Harry  Percy  of  a  fellow  —  Hotspur," 
suggested  Estwicke. 

"  Tha  —  that 's  it,"  spluttered  Mr.  Ridgeway,  in  cordial 
approbation  of  this  apt  translation  of  his  idea.  "  That  'a 
Horace,  exactly.  Hotspur!" 


CHAPTER  IX. 

VEN  bores  have  their  raison  d'etre.  Maurice  Bren- 
J — ^  nett  had  long  speculated  on  the  purpose  of  Colonel 
Percy's  creation.  One  sunshiny  afternoon  in  New  Or 
leans  he  seemed  to  have  solved  this  problem,  for,  chancing 
to  meet  the  old  gentleman,  he  detained  him  in  conversa 
tion  for  a  few  moments  on  the  street,  and  then,  arm  in 

arm,  they  turned  into  the  St. Hotel,  close  at  hand, 

and  repaired  to  the  reading-room. 

Colonel  Percy's  natural  manner,  if  ever  he  had  a  nat 
ural  manner,  had  been  so  long  and  so  utterly  submerged 
beneath  his  mannerism,  that  not  the  faintest  vestige  of 
the  hypothetical  original  tissue  was  discernible.  He 
conserved,  mentally  and  physically,  a  pose  of  portly 
pomposity  and  benign  condescension,  which  would  have 
implied  repletion  of  self-approbation  but  for  its  covertly 
insatiate  demand  for  responsive  homage.  He  was  em 
phatic,  and  oracular,  and  eminently  Socratic  —  not  that 
he  was  verbally  interrogative,  but  the  whole  man  was 
himself  a  huge  interrogation  point,  seeming  to  ask  contin 
ually,  "  Do  you  comprehend  —  can  you  appreciate  Me  f  " 

He  was  an  exemplification  of  the  driving  force  of 
prosperity.  It  had  carried  him  far  along  the  grooves 
of  convention,  and  he  occupied  an  enviable  place  in  pub 
lic  esteem.  To  the  impartial  observer,  however,  seeing 
things  as  they  are,  uninfluenced  by  tradition  and  worldly 
consideration,  he  merely  proved  how  very  creditably  a 
154 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  155 

man  can  sustain  a  high  social  and  financial  position  on 
how  very  little  mental  capital,  confirming  the  old  belief 
that  fools  are  Fortune's  favorites,  and  making  wise  men 
"  ambitious  for  a  motley  coat." 

But  in  his  happy,  ignorant  pomposity  he  thought  he 
knew  it  all.  He  took  it  for  granted  that  his  brain-pan 
was  as  handsomely  furnished  as  his  purse,  and  the  world 
in  general  took  it  for  granted,  too. 

It  was  not  Brennett's  habit  to  fly  in  the  face  of  estab 
lished  usage.  He  did  not  resent  the  old  gentleman's 
condescension,  for,  when  it  suited  his  designs  to  take  a 
low  seat,  it  mattered  very  little  who  said,  "  Sit  thou  here." 
Conventionalities  are  the  pawns  of  the  chess-games  of 
life,  and  by  their  adroit  management  he  frequently  gave 
checkmate  without  mooting  graver  radical  questions  — 
the  expediency  or  the  inexpediency  of  the  relative  posi 
tion  of  knights  and  bishops. 

"  You  have  seen  the  evening  papers,  eh  ?  "  said  Colonel 
Percy,  as  he  sank  into  a  chair.  "  Sad  state  of  affairs  in 
France  —  sad  state  —  sad  state.  Riotous." 

Colonel  Percy  had  a  habit  of  iteration.  He  chanted 
continually  an  acquiescent  refrain  to  his  own  words.  His 
speech  was  like  a  Greek  chorus,  strophe  and  antistrophe 
blending  in  one  harmonious  whole. 

"  I  had  expected  to  go  to  Paris  this  spring,"  he  coc  - 
tinued.  "  But  now,  I  hardly  know,  I  hardly  know." 

He  looked  as  if  the  Commune  were  especially  invented 
for  the  frustration  of  this  praiseworthy  intention. 

"  It  has  been  some  time  since  you  were  abroad,  I  be- 
eve,"  Brennett  remarked. 

"  Years,  years.  I  have  not  been  off  American  soil  for 
years ;  not  since  my  brother  and  I  made  a  little  tour  to 
gether  —  a  little  tour." 

"  He  died  in  Germany,  did  he  not  ?  " 


156  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

Was  Brennett  talking  merely  for  time,  that  he  should 
thus  steer  the  conversation  into  the  dull  channel  of  these 
personal  interests  ?  An  eager  expectation,  foreign  to  the 
subject,  was  in  his  countenance.  An  intense  anxiety  and 
excitement  had  kindled  in  his  eyes.  Once  he  turned  his 
head  toward  the  door  —  only  once  —  and  afterward  there 
was  a  rigidity  in  the  muscles  of  his  face  and  neck,  as  if 
he  would  avoid,  by  an  effort  of  the  will,  the  gesture  to 
which  an  unruly  impulse  rendered  him  prone. 

Nothing  of  all  this  did  old  Walter  Percy  see  or  im 
agine  ;  absorbed  in  the  subject,  he  prosed  on. 

"Yes,  yes;  his  health  was  not  good,  and  travel  was 
advised  by  his  physicians.  He  was  a  great  sufferer  during 
his  latter  years,  and  died  at  last  from  spinal  meningitis  — 
he  died  from  it." 

"  I  remember  meeting  him  at  Interlaken." 

"  Interlaken  ?  Yes,  Interlaken.  I  recollect  Interlaken, 
Mr.  Brennett.  Nice  scenery  there,  very  nice  scenery 
indeed.  The  scenery  at  Interlaken  is  certainly  very 
nice,"  repeated  Colonel  Percy,  with  about  as  much  imagi 
nation  as  a  primary  geography. 

"  Very  nice,"  Brennett  assented. 

The  afternoon  sunlight  was  streaming  in  at  the  win 
dows  ;  the  lace  curtains  stirred  softly  to  and  fro  in  the 
fresh  breeze,  and,  as  they  moved,  the  long,  yellow  rays 
were  broken  and  deflected  into  fantastic  shimmers.  Now 
an  arabesque  of  golden  light  in  a  network  of  gray  shadow 
—  the  etherealized  similitude  of  the  curtain  itself  —  was 
waving  on  the  frescoed  ceiling ;  and  now  it  was  slipping 
insidiously  over  the  carpet.  Sometimes  the  radiance 
encircled  the  old  man's  white  hair  like  a  halo ;  sometimes 
it  played  over  his  withered  features  with  a  scornful  bril 
liancy;  sometimes  it  flashed  full  on  Maurice  Brennett's 
bright  e^es.  Once  it  surprised  a  strange  expression 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT.  157 

there.  He  was  looking  intently  at  the  pier-glass  —  not  at 
his  own  reflection,  for  he  was  so  placed  that  he  could  see 
only  the  indistinct  image  of  a  man  in  the  dim  perspective 
of  the  hall  without.  And  the  man  could  see  Maurice 
Brennett's  reflection,  lounging  in  a  green  velvet  chair  as 
he  talked  to  a  garrulous  graybeard.  Could  it  be  that  a 
swift  glance,  charged  with  a  deep  meaning,  flashed  be 
tween  the  simulacra  in  the  mirror  ?  Or  was  it  only  the 
vagary  of  the  wanton  sunshine,  flying  on  the  wings  of  the 
wind,  and  filling  the  room  with  its  quiverings,  and  bright 
distortions,  and  bizarre  effects  ? 

Suddenly  the  shadow  in  the  hall  was  merged  into  sub 
stance.  There  was  entering  a  tall,  well-dressed  man,  with 
a  handsome  face  and  a  singularly  effective  manner.  He 
had  a  certain  air  of  high  breeding,  but  his  appearance 
gave  a  sharply  contradictory  suggestion  of  reckless  living. 
He  looked  as  if  he  ought  to  be  the  finest  type  of  gentle 
man,  and  yet  could  not,  or  would  not  —  for  there  was 
something  distinctly  vicious  in  his  handsome  eyes. 

The  two  friends  by  the  window  were  rising ;  their  con 
ference  was  terminated.  The  stranger  had  paused  near 
one  of  the  tables,  and  was  listlessly  glancing  over  a  news 
paper  as  he  stood.  Occasionally  he  looked  with  faint  and 
fleeting  interest  at  the  other  occupants  of  the  room,  until 
his  eye  chanced  to  fall  on  Colonel  Percy.  Then  he  laid 
the  paper  down  and  advanced. 

"  I  believe  I  had  the  pleasure  of  your  acquaintance  a 
long  time  ago,"  he  said. 

The  smile  of  amiable  condescension  which  had  for  so 
many  years  adorned  Colonel  Percy's  face  had  become  the 
habit  of  his  muscles.  Just  now  it  was  more  bland  and 
mollifying  than  usual,  because  he  was  in  the  painful  posi 
tion  of  not  recognizing  the  man  who  knew  him  long 
ago. 


158  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

"  Why,  you  have  forgotten  me,"  cried  the  stranger,  with 
a  fresh  buoyancy  of  laugh  and  manner  simply  indescriba- 
ble.  "You  used  to  know  me  well  enough  —  John  For- 
tescue." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  sir,"  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman,  eagerly 
extending  his  hand,  "  I  had  only  mislaid  your  name  for  a 
moment  —  yes  —  mislaid  for  a  moment.  But  as  soon  as 
you  came  into  the  room  I  knew  I  had  seen  you  some 
where.  And  yet  you  have  changed  greatly  in  personal 
appearance.  Appearance,  you  know." 

"  Everybody  tells  me  that,"  said  Fortescue,  carelessly. 
"  Very  few  of  my  old  friends  recognize  me  at  first.  It  is 
hardly  a  matter  for  wonder,  and  I  ought  not  to  expect 
anything  else,  as  I  have  not  been  in  this  part  of  the  coun 
try  for  nearly  thirty  years." 

He  bore  himself  with  a  most  discouraging  affability, 
before  which  even  the  condescending  old  gentleman  wilted 
a  little.  When  Colonel  Percy  partially  recovered  from 
the  novel  sensation,  he  sought  to  assume  an  air  as  of  taking 
Mr.  Fortescue  under  his  wing,  and  the  stranger,  with  a 
certain  imperious  good  humor,  permitted  himself  to 
accept  the  position  of.  protege. 

"  I  am  glad  to  welcome  you  back,"  said  Colonel  Percy 
pompously.  "Yes — glad.  I  knew  your  father  well.  In 
timately.  In  some  respects  you  remind  me  of  him  —  yes, 
very  much,  —  especially  in  your  manner  and  the  tones  of 
your  voice.  You  have  the  family  traits  very  strongly 
marked.  A  chip  of  the  old  block — eh?  Yes  —  a  chip." 

The  several  groups  about  the  room  observed  this  scene 
with  some  interest.  Maurice  Brennett  was  still  standing 
near  the  window.  The  old  gentleman  suddenly  recol 
lected  him,  and  at  once  introduced  him  to  Fortescue. 
The  two  men  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  in  the  agita 
tion  of  elation,  and  gravely  shook  hands. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  159 

Tlias  in  re-entering  New  Orleans  society  Mr.  Fortescue 
had  as  a  voucher  Colonel  Walter  Percy  —  a  man  of  great 
wealth  and  social  consequence,  and  as  well  known  there 
as  the  custom-house. 

In  these  early  days  of  his  return,  Fortescue  often  dined 
with  the  punctilious  old  Pattern  at  his  club,  went  about 
with  him  to  exclusive  reunions  of  the  very  elect,  had  the 
run  of  his  house. 

"I  pledge  you  my  honor,  sir,"  the  old  fellow  said 
to  a  mutual  acquaintance,  "I  feel  rejuvenated  after  a 
choice  symposium  of  this  sort.  Symposium.  I  talk.  I 
tell  about  my  college  days  —  his  father  was  my  chum  — 
great  times  we  had.  Great  times.  He  is  fond  of  hearing 
me  talk  about  his  father ;  he  likes  our  old-world  stories. 
I  tell  him  that  he  is  his  father  over  again  —  build,  gait, 
voice,  manner  —  wonderful  resemblance  —  wonderful ! 
But  I  don't  tell  him,"  added  Colonel  Percy,  with  a  sort 
of  cumbrous  slyness,  "  that  he  is  his  father  —  sublimated. 
He  is  the  only  handsome  Fortescue  I  ever  saw.  He  has 
far  more  than  fulfilled  the  promise  of  his  youth  —  oh,  yes 
—  I  remember  him  when  he  was  an  ugly,  harum-scarum, 
smooth-faced  cub.  Yes  —  ugly  cub.  The  only  handsome 
Fortescue  I  ever  saw  —  he  is,  now.  They  were  all  men  of 
fine  presence  —  but  a  hard-featured  race  —  hard-featured 
to  a  degree." 

That  notably  exclusive  circle  in  which  John  Fortescue 
had  been  welcomed  by  virtue  of  the  high  position  form 
erly  held  by  his  family  sustained  something  of  a  shock 
when  outre  stories  of  his  extravagant  dissipation  began  to 
be  bruited  abroad.  A  few  people  with  long  memories 
now  recalled  sundry  mad  pranks  of  his  early  youth,  and 
said  he  was  exactly  what  might  have  been  expected,  —  as 
tiie  twig  is  bent  the  tree  is  inclined.  He  persistently 
sought  to  conserve  the  hereditary  consideration  which 


160  WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

had  been  accorded  him,  but  he  also  greatly  affected  a 
certain  clique  of  fast  men,  in  which  he  rapidly  became 
a  prime  favorite.  His  never-failing  gayety,  his  vitality, 
his  prodigality,  above  all,  his  talent  and  invention  in  the 
noble  art  of  killing  time,  were  qualities  not  to  be  lightly 
appreciated.  A  sudden  impression  here  prevailed  that  he 
was  a  man  to  be  imitated,  and  many  a  young  fellow's 
merely  frivolous  tendencies  took  a  turn  downward  to  posi 
tive  dissipation  that  might  be  dated  from  Fortescue's 
reappearance  in  New  Orleans. 

Now  and  then,  over  the  smooth  surface  of  this  shallow- 
seeming  life,  there  played  ripples  which  might  have  told 
of  strange  movements  in  the  unmeasured  depths  below. 
Several  of  the  incidents  that  stirred  the  waters  came 
about  in  this  way :  — 

In  some  sort,  Maurice  Brennett  had  begun  to  dog  John 
Fortescue  about,  and  although  not  philanthropic,  and  by 
no  means  a  temperance  man,  he  made  every  effort  to 
restrain  this  chosen  intimate  from  inordinate  drinking. 
One  day,  as  Travis  opened  the  door  of  his  friend's  room 
in  the  hotel,  after  a  slight  annunciatory  tap  on  the  panel, 
he  heard  Brennett  call  out  in  a  strained,  excited  voice  — 
u  You  are  drinking  like  a  damned  fool !  And  if  you  keep 
it  up,  I  '11  cut  the  whole  thing,  by  God ! " 

The  sound  of  the  opening  door  interrupted  Fortescue's 
reply,  and  both  turned  sharply. 

"  What  does  it  matter  to  Brennett  how  hard  Fortescue 
drinks,"  thought  Travis,  in  great  mystification.  But  the 
impression  was  soon  effaced,  and  the  occurrence  forgotten 
in  the  vicissitudes  of  fighting  the  tiger  and  cognate  pur- 
Buits. 

A  very  observant  man  might  have  detected  the  fact 
that  Mr.  Fortescue  was  merely  veneered,  as  it  were,  by 
his  seigniorial  manner  —  the  wood  beneath  was  of  coarse 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  161 

grain.  Then  concerning  his  age  there  was  a  strange  dis 
crepancy.  He  said  that  he  was  fifty-two,  arid  he  looked 
barely  forty.  And  the  life  he  lived  does  not  tend  to 
preserve  youth.  It  was  noticeable,  too,  that  he  seemed 
at  first  singularly  unfamiliar  with  the  streets  of  New  Or 
leans,  considering  the  circumstance  that  he  was  born  and 
bred  in  that  city,  but  he  explained  that  many  places 
about  it  had  in  the  thirty  years  of  his  absence  slipped 
from  his  memory,  for  he  had  "  no  head  for  locality."  He 
possessed  other  peculiarities,  one  of  which  occasioned 
some  remark,  slight,  however,  and  transitory  enough. 
When  he  was  to  a  certain  extent  under  the  influence  of 
wine  he  did  not  answer  readily  to  his  name.  He  was 
known  to  sit  in  motionless  silence  after  some  direct 
appeal,  such  as  —  "  Will  you  come,  Fortescue  ?  "  as 
though  another  person  were  addressed  whose  reply  he 
was  awaiting.  When  roused  to  a  perception  of  the  fact, 
he  was  deft  at  subterfuges,  and  the  matter  passed  as  an 
accident. 

Once  a  more  significant  episode  took  place  in  Bren- 
nett's  presence.  While  walking  with  Fortescue  along 
Canal  Street  one  day  they  encountered  Colonel  Percy, 
who  with  wonted  benign  condescension  paused  for  a  few 
words.  He  was  accompanied  by  his  nephew,  of  whom 
he  was  superlatively  proud  and  fond,  and,  as  he  could 
never  have  done  with  making  an  impression,  his  manner 
of  bland  importance  in  introducing  his  kinsman  to  Fortes- 
cue  seemed  to  say  —  "This,  you  will  note,  is  Horace 
Percy,  —  a  man,  young,  rich,  of  fine  parts,  and  greatly 
favored  in  that  he  is  my  nephew." 

The  flourishing  nephew  was  a  tall,  lithe  fellow  of 
twenty-four  or  five  years  of  age,  with  regular  features,  a 
fresh  complexion,  black  hair,  dark  gray  eyes,  and  a  deli 
cate  dark  mustache  that  curled  upward  at  the  ends,  and 


162  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

had  rather  a  pampered  appearance.  His  deportment  was 
a  contrast  to  his  uncle's.  He  was  unconstrained,  propiti 
atory,  and  seemed  altogether  unaware  of  his  consequence. 
It  may  have  been  that  from  the  plenitude  of  his  self- 
satisfaction  he  could  afford  some  concessions,  but  the  very 
sight  of  him  predisposed  one  in  his  favor. 

His  superficial  glance  changed  suddenly  to  an  intent 
gaze  as  it  rested  upon  Fortescue,  and  the  idea  slowly  per 
colated  through  Colonel  Percy's  thick  skull  that  instead 
of  impressing  his  own  merits  his  nephew  was  distinctly 
impressed.  And  certainly  there  was  something  peculiarly 
admirable  in  Fortescue's  manner.  Those  strong  intima 
tions  of  pride,  a  fine  candor,  and  a  generous  ardor,  gave 
value  to  his  imposing  bearing,  his  height,  and  personal  effec 
tiveness.  A  marked  individuality  was  attendant  on  his 
slightest  gesture.  His  light  laugh  was  full  of  an  infec 
tious  gayety.  He  was  like  a  high  wind  —  he  brought  his 
own  exhilarating  atmosphere  with  his  buoyant,  untamab' 
spirit. 

With  the  bookish  man's  carefully  cultivated  sense  of 
the  picturesque,  all  this  addressed  itself  intimately  to 
Percy.  It  promised  a  perpetuity  of  interest  in  the  midst 
of  the  arid  barren  conditions  of  common-place  life. 
Naturally  he  had  expected  something  very  different  in 
his  uncle's  friend.  He  had  a  sense  of  acquisition. 

"  Do  you  find  many  changes  here  ? "  he  asked  agree 
ably. 

"They  find  me,"  Fortescue  suavely  corrected  him. 
"  They  come  trooping  up  every  street  to  meet  me.  They 
lie  in  wait  for  me  all  along  the  banks  of  that  restless  old 
river  "  — 

"Mutation!  mutation,  sir!"  Colonel  Percy  solemnly 
interrupted.  The  word  and  the  intonation  pleased  him 
—  so  he  said  "  Mutation  "  once  more. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.          163 

"  It  must  exert  a  depressing  influence,"  Horace  Percy 
suggested. 

"It  exhilarates  me!"  cried  Fortescue  unexpectedly. 
He  lightly  fanned  away  the  cigar-smoke  from  his  hand 
some  face,  and  he  laughed  a  little.  "  It  lets  me  know  how 
the  world  goes  thundering  on  through  space.  I  have 
been  thinking  it  a  broken-down  hack,  and  I  come  to 
America  to  find  it  a  fresh  young  flyer  with  a  prime  track 
before  it." 

"  The  world  moves,  sir  —  the  world  moves.  Especially 
the  Western  Hemisphere,"  said  Colonel  Percy.  "Ad 
vancement  —  yes  —  arts  and  manufactures  —  very  good  — 
very  good.  But  not  too  fast.  Moderation.  Moderation." 

The  odor  of  sanctity  did  not  cling  to  Mr.  Fortescue's 
metaphors,  and  the  old  gentleman  was  minded  to  reiter 
ate  circumspectly  —  "  Not  too  fast  —  Moderation.  Mod 
eration." 

Maurice  Brennett  had  shown  some  impatience  through 
out  this  conversation  —  now  it  took  the  form  of  speech. 
"  I  fancy  Mr.  Fortescue  flatters  us,"  he  said,  rather  in 
cisively.  "Or  perhaps  it  is  because  he  thought  so 
slightingly  of  us  when  he  was  here  before,  that  our  few 
changes  and  our  equivocal  progress  exhilarate  him  —  or, 
it  may  be,  he  is  reconciling  himself,  with  the  very  genius 
of  philosophy,  to  his  sojourn  among  us." 

"He  needs  no  'genius  of  philosophy'  for  that,  I  am 
very  sure,"  said  Colonel  Percy,  with  healthy  self-esteem. 
"  He  is  singularly  favored  if  he  has  not  had  more  serious 
causes  for  unhappiness." 

"  I  have  happily  survived  them.    I  have  a  knack  at 

living  —  other  men  are  content  to  breathe,"  Fortescue 

boasted  airily.     "  But  I  lay  no  claim  to  genius  of  any  sort. 

Genius,"  —  he    continued,  with   quick    discursiveness  — 

wGenius  is  the  perfect  poise  of  the  highest  powers," 


164  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

His  manner  vitalized  the  phrase,  and  the  old  man, 
whose  kind  habit  it  was  to  pat  Intellect  on  the  back,  ex 
claimed  —  "  Good !  Very  good !  Epigrammatic." 

He  chipped  out  the  syllables  of  this  long  word  as  if  he 
found  it  very  good,  too. 

"  And  I  hope,  my  dear  sir,  your  c  knack  at  living '  may 
never  fail  you,"  he  added,  rubbing  his  hands  and  looking 
about  him  for  approbation,  for  he  fancied  he  had  said  a 
neat  thing. 

But  his  little  joke  limped  by  unnoticed.  It  suddenly 
occurred  to  him  that  the  attention  of  the  group  seemed 
to  irresistibly  gravitate  toward  Fortescue.  The  others 
spoke  only  of  him,  and  he  was  absorbed  in  himself. 
Horace  Percy  listened  with  responsive  interest  to  his 
every  word;  Travis,  who  had  joined  the  party,  demon 
strated  a  facility  of  acquiescence ;  and  Maurice  Brennett 
was  watching  him  like  a  hawk.  It  was  not  Colonel 
Percy's  habit  to  assist  in  magnifying  the  importance  of 
other  men,  and  to  condescend  to  jests  that  are  cavalierly 
overlooked;  jealous  of  his  own  consequence,  he  was  quick 
to  perceive  that  his  meaning  had  escaped  the  stranger's 
negligent  attention. 

"  With  me,"  Fortescue  declared  buoyantly,  "  the  theory 
of  failure  and  its  practical  demonstration  run  in  parallel 
lines  —  never  touching." 

Then  he  turned  with  his  grand  air  to  Colonel  Percy,  — 
"Tour  good  wishes  for  my  future  ought  to  have  much 
influence  in  keeping  them  from  converging,"  he  said 
suavely. 

The  old  gentleman  acknowledged  this  tribute  with  a 
wrinkled  smile,  and  he  looked  about  him  with  portly  pom 
posity,  despite  an  uncomfortable  inward  monition  that 
Fortescue  was  somehow,  incomprehensibly,  laughing  at 
him, 


WHERE  THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  165 

To  a  man  of  his  temperament  this  was  peculiarly  irritat 
ing.  He  was  not  ill-tempered,  and  he  usually  maintained 
a  conscientious  reverence  for  those  behests  of  polite  so 
ciety  which  prevent  one  from  walking  rough-shod  over  his 
neighbor's  sensibilities,  but  to  him  all  others  must  bow 
down.  He  would  go  any  lengths  to  bring  you  to  your 
knees.  Mr.  Fortescue  had  withheld  the  requisite  genu 
flection.  It  was  with  a  distinct  intention  to  discipline 
him  that  the  old  gentleman,  affecting  an  amiable  inadver 
tence,  hastily  anticipated  his  nephew's  reply  to  a  question 
wldch  the  stranger  asked. 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  Horace  has  been  out  of  town  —  or  you 
would  have  met  earlier.  He  has  visited  his  plantations. 
He  plants  extensively  now.  He  plants.  By  the  way  the 
old  Paturin  place  has  recently  come  into  his  possession. 
Paturin,  —  you  remember  ?  " 

He  looked  at  his  interlocutor  with  a  world  of  specula 
tion  in  his  eye. 

Fortescue  removed  his  cigar  from  his  lips,  turned  a 
smiling  face  full  upon  the  old  gentleman,  and  responded, 
—  "  Paturin  !  —  I  think  I  remember.  A  fine  body  of 
land."  Then  he  replaced  his  cigar  and  pulled  away 
with  coolest  unconcern. 

The  old  fellow  stared.  He  thought  he  remembered 
Paturin  !  Colonel  Percy  himself  would  never  forget  the 
night  —  in  the  times  of  the  heavy  gambling  on  the  Mis 
sissippi  steamboats  —  when  he  had  seen  this  man,  then  a 
young  sprig,  barely  come  to  his  majority,  stake  this  same 
"  fine  body  of  land "  and  its  growing  crop  of  cotton,  and 
lose  on  a  reckless  "  two  pair "  against  "  three  of  a  kind." 

And  now  he  thought  he  remembered  Paturin ! 

Colonel  Percy  felt  that  there  was  an  infinite  impudence 
in  this  seeming  indifference  —  or  perhaps  Fortescue  was 
only  unwilling  that  one  should  know  how  deep  were  the 


166  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

wounds  made  by  this  chance  thrust  —  this  reminder  of  his 
flung-away  fortune.  But  it  coerced  a  respect  for  the  per- 
Bonal  pride  which  he  held  like  a  sword  between  himself 
and  too  close  an  advance  from  a  grossly  inquisitive 
world. 

After  this  Brennett  seemed  feverishly  anxious  to  get 
away,  and  presently  he  and  Fortescue  left  the  others  and 
walked  together  up  the  street. 

Travis  lingered  only  a  few  moments.  As  he  overtook 
them  he  heard  Brennett  saying  in  a  tense,  sneering,  half- 
suppressed  voice  :  "  What  is  the  use  of  all  this  display  — 
ep-i-gram-mat-ic  wisdom  !  It  can't  be  in  character." 

Fortescue  said  nothing,  for  at  that  instant  the  puzzled 
Travis  joined  them.  As  he  walked  abreast  with  them  he 
noted  in  surprise  the  surly  look  in  the  faces  of  both  men. 
He  came  at  once  to  his  sage  conclusion. 

"These  intellectual  fellows  are  too  devilish  jealous!" 
he  said  to  himself.  "How  they  do  grudge  each  other 
their  little  innings!" 

Perhaps  Maurice  Brennett's  impressions  of  the  scene 
might  be  most  fully  gauged  by  the  fact  that  he,  assisted 
by  Mr.  Fortescue  or  assisting  him,  spent  the  next  few 
days  in  a  laborious  examination  of  sundry  records  on 
which  the  name  of  Fortescue  appeared,  and  thenceforth 
this  scion  of  the  family  so  far  overcame  his  pride  and  sen 
sitiveness  as  to  allude  often  and  readily  to  various  pieces 
of  property  which  had  passed  from  his  hands,  his  memory 
being  greatly  refreshed  by  exhaustive  lists  obtained  dur 
ing  his  researches  into  the  arcana  of  real  estate. 

Fortescue's  reckless  prodigality  had  convinced  Travis, 
after  some  observation,  that  the  project  of  buying  the 
claim  to  the  Graftenburg  houses  was  feasible,  but  he  was 
much  surprised  by  the  readiness  and  cheapness  with  which 
the  purchase  was  effected. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  107 

Brennett  deemed  it  expedient  to  add  a  contingent  ele 
ment  to  the  transaction. 

"  We  must  make  it  to  Fortescue's  interest  that  the  com 
promise  shall  actually  go  through,"  he  said  privately  to 
Travis,  "  or  it  may  be  difficult  to  get  him  to  bestir  himself 
enough  to  effect  it.  The  affair  is  obliged  to  be  carried  on 
in  his  name,  and  ostensibly  by  him,  although  we  furnish 
the  money  for  lawyer's  fees  and  all  that.  But  we  can't 
Bhow  at  all,  you  know.  So  it  is  best  to  give  Fortescue 
only  five  thousand  dollars  now,  and  five  thousand  if  we 
succeed  in  making  the  compromise.  Hold  out  that  pros 
pect  to  Fortescue  and  it  will  keep  him  down  to  his  work. 
He  will  exert  himself  to  see  the  lawyers  and  have  th° 
thing  pushed  through  at  once." 

On  this  basis  the  negotiation  was  consummated  ana, 
to  Fortescue's  lively  satisfaction,  five  thousand  dollars 
changed  hands. 

After  he  had  left  the  room  with  the  check  in  his  pocket- 
book,  Travis  commented  on  the  transaction.  "  That 's  the 
greediest  man  to  gobble  up  a  little  dab  of  money  I  ever 
saw,"  he  said  to  Brennett.  "  If  I  were  in  his  place  I  'd 
plough  for  a  living  before  I  would  sell  my  claim  to  a 
splendid  property  like  that  for  such  a  pittance." 

He  thought  it  over  in  silence  for  a  moment  —  then 
shook  his  wise  head.  "  I  can't  understand  it,  Brennett. 
It  gets  away  with  me." 

And  Brennett  said  nothing. 

For  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon  Travis  pondered 
deeply  at  intervals  upon  this  problem.  It  was  a  long  time 
for  any  one  subject  to  occupy  his  attention.  Hours  after 
the  consultation,  he  remarked,  apropos  of  nothing,  "  It 's 
a  conundrum,  Brennett,"  and  still  later  he  broke  a  brood' 
ing  silence  with  the  exclamation,  "  Give  it  up !  "  On  each 
occasion  there  was  a  swift  expression  of  alarm  among  the 


168  WHERE  THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

anxious  lines  on  Brennett's  face  —  lines  which  it  had  not 
known  a  month  ago.  But  the  absorption  gradually  re 
laxed  its  hold  upon  Travis,  and  that  evening,  in  the  glare 
of  gas-lights,  the  popping  of  corks,  and  the  special  Provi 
dence  of  filling  a  "  bob-tail  flush "  at  a  critical  juncture, 
the  last  lingering  recollection  of  the  "  conundrum  "  slipped 
through  his  sieve  of  a  mind  according  to  the  habit  on 
which  Brennett  had  relied. 

Into  the  strong  sweep  of  Fortescue's  influence  Horace 
Percy  had  drifted  without  resistance,  for  if  he  were  Hot 
spur  at  all,  he  was  Hotspur  with  those  sturdy  elements  of 
obduracy  and  fierceness  left  out.  His  wilfulness  needed 
only  a  curb  to  bring  it  to  naught.  He  had  no  coarse 
proclivities,  but  he  possessed  an  infinite  leisure ;  he  was 
malleable,  impressionable,  and  reflected  the  moods  of  the 
man  nearest  his  elbow.  His  chief  restraints  had  hitherto 
lain  in  his  intellectual  tastes,  and  although  he  had  some 
times  affected  the  r6le  of  wild  young  blood,  and  enjoyed 
the  flutter  of  anxiety  his  suddenly  erratic  habits  occa 
sioned  among  his  relatives,  he  had  found  the  jeunesse 
doree  were  but  as  sounding  brass  —  dull,  commonplace 
fellows,  as  a  rule,  and  ineffectual  for  mental  attrition  and 
congenial  companionship.  But  the  pyrotechnic  qualities 
of  Fortescue's  mind  dazzled  and  delighted  him  ;  the  man 
personally  impressed  and  interested  him  singularly;  he 
even  began  to  entertain  an  admiring  friendship  for  him  — 
in  common  with  many  of  the  same  stamp,  for  Fortescue 
had  his  following.  To  fraternize  with  him,  however, 
involved  more  or  less  a  return  to  those  wild  scenes,  of 
which  the  joyousness  had  hitherto  seemed  a  trifle  chimeri 
cal  to  the  hesitant  and  fastidious  Percy.  Now  they  were 
suddenly  invested  with  a  strong  actuality  of  interest  and 
a  potent  fascination.  Fortescue's  tireless  brilliancy,  his 
rampant  gayety,  his  indefatigable  vitality  and  buoyant 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  169 

spirit  were  subtly  imparted  to  his  associates,  and  his  zest 
of  enjoyment,  even  thus  warmed  over,  had  a  fine  flavor. 
They  delighted  in  those  sensations  with  which  he  was 
wont  to  shatter  the  nerves  of  a  too  sensitive  public. 
Enlivening  stories  of  Horace's  participation  in  these  es 
capades  sometimes  reached  his  uncle's  ears.  When  they 
were  supplemented  by  vivaciously  accurate  accounts  of 
his  reckless  expenditure  of  money  and  the  sums  he  lost 
at  cards,  they  almost  broke  Colonel  Percy's  heart.  In 
the  midst  of  these  beguilements,  however,  his  nephew 
was  impeded  by  a  threatened  attack  of  pneumonia. 
"And  in  reason,"  said  the  pious  old  man,  humbly  sub 
mitting  to  Providence,  "it's  the  very  best  thing  that 
could  happen  to  Horace." 

The  physician  peremptorily  forbade  all  exposure,  and 
counselled  the  patient  to  keep  his  room.  Horace  consid 
ered  this  a  lamentable  waste  of  time,  but  it  did  not  im 
pair  his  cheerfulness,  for  he  was  not  allowed  to  be  lonely ; 
his  wild  young  friends  daily  congregated  about  him,  to 
"keep  up  his  spirits,"  which  they  did,  noisily  enough. 

One  afternoon,  Maurice  Brennett,  still  maintaining  that 
anxious  espionage  upon  Fortescue,  deemed  it  expedient 
to  affect  an  interest  in  the  invalid.  He  found,  as  he  had 
expected,  this  choice  coterie  of  associates  grouped  about 
the  sofa  on  which  young  Percy  lay  at  length.  Among 
them  was  Fortescue, — loud,  hilarious,  flushed  with  wine, 
immensely  glad  to  see  Brennett,  immensely  hospitable  to 
Percy's  guests,  immensely  entertained  by  Percy's  illness. 
which  he  evidently  considered  a  good  practical  joke. 
Brennett's  entrance  had  interrupted  a  remonstrance  from 
Travis,  which,  after  the  usual  greetings,  was  resumed  by 
that  gentleman  in  his  habitual  languid  drawl,  and  with  an 
expostulatory  gesture  of  his  listless  hand  and  arm,  held 
out  expressively  as  he  lounged  in  the  easy-chair  on  one 


170  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

side  of  the  fireplace.  "It  is  out  of  the  question,"  ho 
said,  "  to  have  all  this  noise  and  confusion  in  a  sick  man's 
room.  We  ought  to  stay  away  from  here  until  Percy 
gets  better." 

Fortescue,  to  whom  this  was  addressed,  regarded  him 
intently  for  a  moment.  Then  dropping  into  the  easy- 
chair  opposite,  with  Travis's  own  look,  with  Travis's  own 
languid  manner,  with  Travis's  own  expostulatory  wave  of 
his  cigar,  held  at  arm's  length  in  his  right  hand,  with 
every  inflection  of  Travis's  voice,  he  repeated  the  words 
of  the  considerate  remonstrance,  and  so  marvellously  per 
fect  was  the  mimicry  that  a  roar  of  astonished  delight 
went  up  from  the  spectators.  In  the  momentary  sensa 
tion  that  ensued,  not  one  of  the  careless  fellows  was 
observant  enough  to  note  that  a  glance  of  much  signifi 
cance  flashed  from  Brennett's  bright  eyes  into  John  For- 
tescue's  laughing  eyes ;  not  one  so  quick  as  to  detect  the 
sudden  paling  of  the  flushed  face  as  the  laughing  eyes 
caught  the  glance;  for  a  little  while  there  was  an  ex 
treme  gravity  in  the  demeanor  of  the  lively  cynosure  of 
the  circle. 

And  as  the  days  passed,  this  phase  of  their  versatile 
friend's  abilities  was  not  again  obtrusively  presented. 

During  Horace's  illness  he  was  in  a  measure  at  the 
mercy  of  his  uncle,  who  thought  it  his  duty  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  the  opportunity  which  the  seizure  afforded  to 
badger  the  young  fellow.  Colonel  Percy  ascribed  the 
attack  to  the  wine-bottle  and  the  spring  races.  The  phy 
sicians  did  not  altogether  concur  in  this  opinion.  They 
admitted  that  too  much  wine  was  bad,  and  too  much 
races  also.  But  these  diversions  do  not  of  themselves 
tend  to  produce  pneumonia;  the  faculty  took  a  lowei 
moral  ground. 

Colonel  Percy  began  with  the  most  important  point 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  171 

K  Ho  race,"  he  said  solemnly,  "you  are  wasting  a  great 
deal  of  money.  Why  will  you  persist  in  gambling  in 
this  wicked  way?  Wicked  —  very  wicked.  This  man 
Fortescue  has  a  bad  influence  on  you.  He  will  ruin 
you,  sir.  He  is  ruining  all  the  young  fellows.  I  hap 
pen  to  know  that  you  have  been  gambling  heavily.  And 
• —  losing ! " 

"  Losing !  Lost  the  last  stiver.  Poor  as  a  church 
mouse,"  assented  Horace  easily.  He  was  in  his  com 
placently  iniquitous  frame  of  mind  to-day  and  enjoyed 
his  uncle's  uneasiness.  "  So  poor  because  I  will  gamble. 
Will  gamble  because  I  am  so  wicked.  Therefore  I  'm  so 
wicked  because  I  'm  so  poor.  Moral  —  if  you  don't  want 
to  be  wicked  you  must  n't  be  poor.  Q.  E.  D." 

Colonel  Percy  listened  to  this  with  an  intent  brow, 
vaguely  conscious  that  there  was  something  wrong  some 
where,  but  unable  to  "  spot  it."  Then  he  sternly  at 
tempted  to  repress  this  levity. 

"  I  speak  for  your  good.  Yes.  Your  conduct  is  un 
seemly.  It  has  been  remarked." 

Which  was  true.  Colonel  Percy  thought  it  was  bad 
to  be  wicked,  but  to  be  remarked  in  wickedness  was  far 
worse.  With  a  weighty  manner  and  extreme  emphasis 
he  repeated  —  "  It  has  been  remarked,  sir.  Remarked. 
You  have  been  seen  fantastically  tipsy,"  he  cried,  with  a 
shrill  rising  inflection.  "People  laughed,  sir!  They 
fyughed/" 

Horace  colored.  The  reproach  struck  home.  He  felt 
that  there  was  cause  for  serious  mortification  in  this.  He 
cherished  the  pre-eminence  with  which  his  fortune  had 
endowed  him.  He  fostered  notoriety  —  to  be  remarked 
was  one  of  the  dearest  conditions  of  his  life,  but  with 
envy  and  bated  breath,  and  by  no  means  as  a  target  for 
the  ridicule  which  his  uncle's  words  implied. 


17  2  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

As  Colonel  Percy  talked  on,  Horace  fell,  as  was  his 
wont,  under  the  influence  of  whoever  was  nearest  his 
elbow.  He  began  to  repent.  The  idea  of  ridicule,  deftly 
inserted,  was  more  wholesome  in  its  effects  than  prayers. 

Its  effects  were  unfortunately  fleeting.  When  the  old 
man  was  gone  and  his  enlivening  young  friends  returned, 
Horace,  with  a  bewildering  moral  versatility,  hedged  on 
his  contrition,  and  throughout  his  convalescence  there  was 
a  fine  display  of  those  inconsistencies  and  vacillations  of 
character  for  which  he  was  famous. 

About  this  time,  however,  he  came  under  the  domina 
tion  of  an  influence  which  his  uncle,  in  the  innocence  of 
his  heart,  welcomed. 

Languid  and  enfeebled  by  illness,  Percy  had  neither 
the  nerve  nor  inclination  to  keep  the  gait  at  which  Fortes- 
cue  pursued  pleasure,  and  thus  gradually  fell  away  from 
him.  His  society  seemed  to  have  lost,  also,  its  attraction 
for  Brennett,  who  hitherto,  prompted  apparently  by 
friendship,  had  openly  made  earnest  efforts  to  repress 
Fortescue's  unseemly  exuberance  of  notoriety.  But,  in 
despair,  perhaps,  he  had  relinquished  them  at  last. 
Fortescue  remained  the  most  conspicuous  figure  of  his 
conspicuous  clique,  and  his  hilarious  drunken  bon  mots 
were  all  over  New  Orleans  —  people  repeating  them,  rep- 
rehensively,  as  in  duty  bound,  but  with  infinite  relish,  as 
the  old  Adam  constrained  them. 

Between  Brennett  and  Percy,  thus  distanced,  there  had 
long  existed  a  friendship  of  that  cool  conventional  sort 
which  but  for  accident  might  have  amounted  only  to  ac 
quaintance.  Now  it  seemed  suddenly  to  intensify  and 
become  an  intimacy.  Brennett  was  a  man  of  keenly 
alert  and  educated  faculties.  In  notable  contrast  witL 
his  chosen  associates  his  life  was  well-ordered  and  hia 
habits  singularly  correct.  Ho  had  no  hold  on  Percy 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  173 

through  participation  in  the  amusements  which  the  young 
fellow  had  recently  affected,  but  to  Horace  the  com 
panionship  was  grateful,  for  Brennett  was  one  of  those 
rare  conversationalists  who  gently  titillate  the  intelligence 
of  an  interlocutor  so  that  he  enjoys  without  effort  or  ex 
haustion.  They  found  many  subjects  in  common.  They 
spent  much  time  together  in  these  spring  days,  and  as  the 
season  advanced  and  the  annual  exodus  began  to  be  talked 
of,  it  was  natural  enough  that  Percy  should  invite  his 
agreeable  and  unexceptionable  friend  to  make  him  a  visit 
at  his  country  home.  It  was  no  less  natural  that  Brennett 
should  accept  the  invitation.  And  thus  his  schemes 
ramified. 


CHAPTER  X. 

pulses  of  life  throbbed  languidly  in  Chattalla. 
-*-  Sometimes  there  was  hardly  a  creature  to  be  seen 
upon  the  Square  —  and  then  again  the  noontide  sunshine 
would  rest  only  on  the  figure  of  a  belated  countryman, 
drunk  overnight,  lying  in  the  safe  shadow  of  the  Temple 
of  Justice,  and  sleeping  off  the  effects  of  "bust  head," 
in  the  soft  spring  grass  beneath  the  budding  sycamore 
tree.  Sometimes  a  wagon  would  rattle  heavily  across  the 
stones;  at  long  intervals  the  sound  of  chaffering  would 
rise  upon  the  air  from  "  Jerusalem ; "  or  perhaps  the 
silence  might  be  broken  bv  the  talk  of  a  knot  of  gentle 
men  who  brought  chairs  from  the  bank,  and  took  up  a 
position  in  the  midst  of  the  public  pavement.  If  you 
should  thread  your  way  through  this  group,  you  would 
not  overhear  the  discussion  of  news  of  the  present  day, 
local  or  foreign  —  you  would  catch  such  phrases  as  — "  The 
enemy's  artillery  opened  the  ball," —  or,  "  Then  we  exe 
cuted  a  brilliant  flank  movement."  And  you  would  go  on 
realizing  that  all  their  interest  lay  in  the  past,  and  that 
they  looked  upon  the  future  as  only  capable  of  furnishing 
a  series  of  meagre  and  supplemental  episodes. 

It  seemed  to  Estwicke  afterward  that  one  of  these 
episodes,  which  roused  Chattalla  and  diverted  it  momen 
tarily  from  its  occupation  of  contemplating  its  own  history, 
was  charged  with  the  special  purpose  of  effecting  a  breach 
between  himself  and  General  Vayne.  It  operated  solely 
174 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  175 

upon  the  peculiarities  of  their  respective  temperaments, 
for  each  had  in  the  matter  as  slight  concern  as  might  be. 

One  morning  Estwicke  came  down  by  rail  from  the 
barracks,  and  as  he  entered  the  lower  cross-hall  of  the 
court-house  he  encountered  General  Yayne  marching 
meditatively  back  and  forth  upon  the  brick-paved  floor. 

"  I  have  been  endeavoring,  sir,"  said  General  Yayne,  as 
he  offered  his  hand,  "  to  drill  some  raw  recruits  of  recol 
lections.  I  am  a  witness,  you  know,  in  that  Jartree  suit 
against  the  life  insurance  company  —  shabby,  shabby 
affair  !  Do  you  know,  sir,"  lowering  his  voice  effectively, 
"  that  the  pretext  upon  which  they  refuse  to  pay  the  loss 
is  that  Major  Jartree  died  —  by  —  his  —  own  —  hand!" 
Impressive  pause.  "  They  claim  that  the  deed  was  done 
for  the  sake  of  securing  the  insurance  money  for  his  chil 
dren  ! "  Still  more  impressive  pause.  "  That  he  died, 
sir,  in  the  act  of  cheating  and  chousing.  My  friend, 
Major  Jartree ! " 

He  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  twirling  his 
mustache  fiercely  with  his  left  hand,  and  looking  frown- 
ingly  intent  —  much  as  he  did  when  he  led  a  charge  at 
Shiloh  or  Monterey. 

There  was  an  expression  of  embarrassment  on  Estwicke's 
face  ;  he  was  about  to  speak,  but  General  Vayne,  roused 
with  affronted  friendship,  went  swiftly  on,  — 

"  I  am  only  to  testify  to  the  life-long  integrity  of  Major 
Jartree  —  my  limited  knowledge  of  the  minutiae  of  this 
affair  will  permit  me  to  go  no  further.  But  I  am  glad  to 
enter  the  lists  on  any  terms.  I  am  glad  to  break  a  lance 
for  those  orphaned  children !  Six  of  them,  Captain  Est 
wicke —  six  of  those  helpless  children,  all  under  fifteen 
years  of  age!  No  father  —  mother  a  confirmed  invalid — 
and  their  half-brothers  both  family-men  struggling  along  on 
little  tid-bits  of  salaries.  But " —  with  a  change  of  voice, 


176  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

and  waving  the  whole  matter  into  a  diminishing  distance 
with  his  expressive  left  hand,  "the  effort  on  the  part  of 
the  company  to  avoid  the  obligation  is  utterly  futile.  It 
will  only  be  painful  to  Major  Jartree's  friends  and  rela 
tives  to  hear  the  puny,  malicious  attempts  to  tarnish  his 
motives  and  character.  That  can 't  be  done,  sir,  here  in 
Chattalla,  where  the  man  was  known  and  beloved  and 
revered  —  my  friend,  Major  Jartree !  It  is  impossible  for 
them  to  procure  any  reputable,  credible  testimony ! " 

"  Perhaps  you  are  unaware,"  said  Estwicke,  with  a  sud 
den  hot  flush,  "  that  I  am  here  to-day  to  testify  in  behalf 
of  the  insurance  company." 

General  Vayne  fell  back  a  step. 

"  Most  certainly,  sir,  I  was  unaware  of  it,"  he  said,  with 
slow  emphasis.  "And" — severely — "it  seems  to  me  you 
should  before  have  stated  the  fact." 

Now,  General  Yayne  was  the  father  of  a  daughter  — 
otherwise  Estwicke  would  have  sharply  retorted  that  he 
had  found  it  impossible  to  get  in  a  word  edgewise.  He 
trembled  with  the  effort  at  repression,  but  still  stood  con 
fronting  the  elder  gentleman,  and  intimating  by  his  ex 
pectant  eye  that  he  anticipated  something  more  definite 
in  the  way  of  an  apology. 

In  General  Yayne's  foolish,  partisan  indignation  that 
the  legal  adversary  of  Major  Jartree's  orphans  had  any 
witness  at  all,  and  that  he  himself  had  been  thus  unwit 
tingly  and  ludicrously  hob-nobbing  with  the  enemy,  he 
would  have  been  glad  to  put  Estwicke  off  with  something 
less  than  the  full  honors  of  war.  But  the  young  man's 
manner  and  attitude  constrained  him. 

"  In  that  case,"  he  resumed  stiffly,  "  I  beg  to  withdraw 
anything  offensive  I  may  have  said  concerning  the  char 
acter  of  the  testimony  which  the  insurance  company  can 
command." 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  177 

Here  Estwicke  should  have  dropped  it. 

"  I  did  not  have  the  opportunity,"  he  persisted,  how 
ever,  imperiously  resolved  to  place  himself  exactly  right 
upon  the  record,  "  to  intimate  earlier  my  slight  connection 
with  the  affair.  I  was  interested  and  surprised  by  what 
you  were  saying." 

And  here  General  Vayne  should  have  dropped  it. 

"  And,  if  I  may  ask,  what  did  I  say  to  surprise  you  ? " 
he  demanded. 

Combat  was  to  Estwicke  like  the  breath  of  his  nostrils. 
Already  restive  under  the  many  restraints  imposed  by  the 
other's  seniority  and  paternity,  his  aggressive  manner  was 
only  imperfectly  tempered  as  he  replied :  — 

"  If  you  may  ask,  I  may  answer.  I  was  surprised  that 
so  serious  a  doubt  should  be  entertained  that  Major  Jar 
tree  killed  himself." 

"  Doubt,  sir  !  That  he  killed  himself !  "  exclaimed 
General  Vayne.  "  If  I  were  warned  of  God  in  a  vision  I 
could  not  —  I  could  not  constrain  myself  to  believe  it ! 
My  friend  "—his  voice  trembled — "Major  Jartree!" 

"And,  Captain  Estwicke,"  he  added,  after  a  momentary 
pause,  "it  will  be  very  difficult  to  make  a  jury  believe 
that,  in  the  face  of  Major  Jartree's  character,  which,  for 
tunately,  he  left  behind  him,  and  which  cannot  be  taken 
away  even  —  from  —  a  —  dead  —  man." 

"  I  shall  not  attempt  to  make  a  jury  believe  it,"  said 
Estwicke,  irritated  beyond  bounds.  "  I  shall  only  tell  the 
jury,  under  oath,  what  I  know." 

General  Vayne  looked  at  him  gravely. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  once  more.  I  supposed  that  you 
were  here  to  prove  some  slight  collateral  point.  I  had  no 
idea  that  you  intended  to  try  to  make  the  jury  believe 
that.  Let  me  ask  you,  Captain  Estwicke,"  he  continued, 
jn  a  sudden  tremor  for  the  result  of  the  case,  "  how  you,  a 


178  WHERE  THE    BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT. 

stranger,  happen  to  be  so  fully  informed  about  this  mat 
ter?" 

So  much  had  been  said  of  questionable  intent  that  Est- 
wicke  fancied  an  implication  in  this,  too. 

"I  should  answer  that  question  more  appropriately 
from  the  witness  stand,"  he  replied,  altogether  overtaken. 

"  Thank  you !  "  cried  General  Vayne,  fierily,  "  I  am 
schooled !  " 

He  was  about  to  pass  by,  but  Estwicke,  already  peni 
tent,  hastily  added  — 

"  I  was  at  Bandusia  Springs  when  he  killed  himself  — 
I  mean  when  he  died." 

"I  perceive  in  you,  sir,  a  very  formidable  witness 
against  the  widow  and  the  orphan,"  said  General  Vayne, 
hotly. 

"  I  assure  you,"  returned  Estwicke,  losing  every  vestige 
of  self-control,  "  other  people  have  some  rights  under  the 
law  —  even  an  insurance  company  —  and  the  law  ac 
cords  them  my  testimony,  such  as  it  is." 

"  I  wish  you  joy  of  your  tilt  in  its  behalf,  and  I  have 
the  honor  to  wish  you  also,  sir,  a  very  good  morning." 
And  General  Yayne  passed  swiftly  through  the  door  and 
strode  off  down  the  pavement  to  the  gate,  twirling  his 
long,  gray  mustache,  and  touching  his  hat  with  a  military 
salute  to  the  men  he  met,  who  greeted  him  i*  like  man 
ner. 

There  were  ten  windows  in  the  Circuit  Court  room,  all 
of  them  furnished  with  great,  green  shutters,  which  stood, 
night  and  day,  broadly  flaring.  This  gave  them  from 
within  a  bare  and  unnaturally  glaring  aspect,  and  might 
have  suggested,  to  a  mind  enervated  and  rendered  morbid 
by  the  sophistication  of  shades  and  inside  blinds,  a 
painful  resemblance  to  eyes  lidless  and  lashless.  In  the 
summer-time,  when  the  grimy  and  cobwebbed  sashes  were 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  179 

thrown  up,  the  thick  leaves  of  the  sycamore  close  at  hand, 
with  here  the  flash  of  the  dew  and  there  the  flutter  of  a 
wing,  afforded  a  pretty  make-shift  for  upholstery,  but  to 
day  only  the  budding  branches  touched  the  glass  and 
occasionally  rapped  sharply  upon  it  as  if  to  call  to  order 
the  assemblage  within. 

Besides  the  Bar,  many  of  the  unprofessional  "  quality  " 
of  Chattalla  were  present,  and  a  considerable  number  of 
heavy  country  fellows  from  the  outlying  districts  of  the 
county,  clad  in  brown  jeans  and  stolidly  eying  the  town 
folks,  lounged  on  the  benches  or  strolled  aimlessly  in  and 
out  of  the  room.  Close  to  the  wall,  on  the  left,  sat  rows 
of  the  litigation-loving  negroes,  whose  habit  it  is  to  fre 
quent  the  trial  of  all  causes,  great  or  small.  Admirers  of 
oratory  are  these,  and  never  a  word  is  lost  upon  them. 
The  jury  held  their  heads  attentively  askew,  for  already 
the  plaintiff's  prima  facie  case  had  been  made  out,  and 
depositions  were  being  read  on  the  other  side.  Then 
Estwicke  was  called,  and  as  he  took  his  conspicuous  place 
on  the  stand  an  expectant  silence  ensued. 

The  glare  of  the  ten  windows  was  full  upon  his  expres 
sive,  irregular  features,  and  his  dark  red  hair,  clipped 
close  about  his  finely  shaped  head.  His  whiskers  and 
mustache  seemed  to  take  a  lighter  tinge.  There  was 
a  slight  frown  upon  his  face,  and  a  grave,  almost  anxious, 
intentness  in  his  brown  eyes  belied  the  cool,  impassive 
manner  with  which  he  awaited  the  questions. 

The  first  of  these  were  comparatively  unimportant,  and 
elicited  ready  replies.  They  were  put  by  the  defendant's 
senior  counsel,  a  muscular,  wiry,  hatchet-faced  man  of  the 
name  of  Kendricks,  a  stranger  at  this  bar,  and  bearing  in 
his  garb  and  manner  the  stamp  of  a  metropolis.  He  was 
a  practitioner  of  some  note  in  the  city  of  Marston,  and 
Temple  Meredith  had  at  first  regarded  with  self-gratula. 


180  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

tion  the  fact  of  being  associated  with  him  in  this  case. 
It  was  calculated,  Meredith  thought,  to  impress  the  public 
with  a  sense  of  his  increasing  professional  importance, 
since  it  could  not  be  generally  known  that  the  influence 
of  a  kinsman,  who  was  a  director  in  the  insurance  com 
pany,  had  caused  that  corporation  to  secure  also  the 
young  fellow's  valuable  services.  And  in  fact  his  services 
were  valuable.  He  had  done  most  of  the  drudgery  in 
preparing  the  case,  he  had  studied  it  carefully,  drawn  the 
papers,  discovered  important  testimony,  and  armed  him 
self  to  the  teeth  with  precedent.  But  now  that  it  had 
come  on  for  trial,  and  was  before  the  public,  Kendricks 
had  resumed  his  position  as  principal  performer,  and  left 
the  young  man,  ambitious  of  distinction,  to  saw  away  on 
the  second  fiddle  with  what  complacence  he  might. 
Meredith  maintained  his  habitual  serenity  of  aspect,  but, 
after  the  manner  of  such  young  shoots  who  desire  to  be 
century  oaks  in  a  fortnight,  he  felt  ill-used.  It  never 
occurred  to  him  that  this  state  of  silent  obscurity  was  ex 
actly  the  same  which  Kendricks  had  graced  some  twenty 
years  before. 

Presently  a  sudden  break  occurred  in  the  examination. 

"  State  anything  that  Major  Jartree  may  have  said  to 
you  on  the  subject  of  suicide." 

The  witness  hesitated,  turned  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and 
glanced  down  at  it,  conscious  of  General  Yayne's  fierce 
eyes  fixed  upon  him  —  conscious  of  no  others.  A  flush 
rose  into  his  face  —  and  then  he  looked  up.  Pie  was  sen 
sible  of  an  angry  contempt  for  himself  that  he  had  sought 
to  shirk  any  man's  gaze,  that  there  should  be  any  man 
whose  displeasure  he  deprecated  —  and  deprecated  for  a 
selfish  reason.  And  in  this  instant  he  caught  the  expres 
sion  of  faces  that  had  a  far  more  unnerving  effect  —  that 
smote  upon  his  heart.  The  dead  man's  two  sons  sat 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  181 

before  him  —  shabby-genteel  young  drudges,  with  joyless, 
troubled  eyes,  in  which  he  read  the  terrible  anxiety  that 
possesses  men  who  hold  character  dear,  when  character  is 
called  in  question.  And  he  remembered,  too,  the  widow 
and  the  six  orphans  whose  little  all  was  in  jeopardy. 

He  chafed  under  the  sense  of  these  influences.  "  Have 
1  a  conscience  ?  "  he  asked  himself.  "  Do  I  realize  the 
obligations  of  an  oath  ?  " 

In  the  effort  to  sustain  his  equilibrium  he  was  unaware 
how  much  of  the  indifference,  which  he  sought  to  foster 
in  his  mind  and  heart,  was  expressed  in  his  manner  as  he 
replied,  "Major  Jartree  often  spoke  to  me  of  suicide. 
He  alluded  to  it  as  'the  solution  of  a  problem.'" 

General  Yayne  threw  himself  back  impatiently  in  his 
chair,  which  creaked  beneath  the  shifting  of  his  heavy 
weight.  There  was  a  cruel,  blanching  dismay  in  the 
faces  of  the  dead  man's  sons.  They  looked  at  each  other 
in  painful  doubt  and  bewilderment,  and  then  they  looked 
back  in  increasing  surprise  at  the  witness. 

This  to  the  crowd  seemed  almost  conclusive.  The 
depositions  of  the  physicians  which  had  been  read  proved 
only  that  Major  Jartree  had  for  some  time,  under  advice, 
used  morphine,  and  had  taken  an  overdose.  From  their 
showing,  it  might  have  been  an  accident.  This  testimony 
seemed  to  indicate  a  deliberate  intention. 

Estwicke  was  requested  to  give  the  particulars,  so  far  as 
his  memory  might  serve,  of  all  that  Major  Jartree  had  said 
alluding  to  suicide,  and  the  circumstances  under  which 
these  conversations  took  place. 

And  as  he  complied,  the  impression  he  created  was  one 
which  his  slightest  friend  might  regret.  His  glance  was 
both  hard  and  careless.  Now  and  then  he  turned,  with  an 
idle  gesture,  his  soft  hat  which  he  held  folded  in  his  hand. 
His  manner  seemed  the  exponent  of  a  callous  nature  — 


182  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

the  very  tones  of  his  voice  indicated  a  peculiarly  frivolous 
insensibility  to  the  painful  and  even  tragic  elements  in 
volved  in  the  recital.  For  it  began  to  be  very  evident 
that  a  bankrupt,  in  broken  health,  in  great  depression  of 
spirit,  in  frantic  anxiety  for  his  children's  future  and  the 
support  of  an  invalid  wife,  the  dead  man  had  sacrificed 
his  honesty,  his  conscience,  his  life,  for  a  pittance,  and  sac 
rificed  it  in  vain.  He  had  talked  too  much  in  his  loneli 
ness  and  his  sorrows  to  a  friendly  young  stranger  whom  he 
had  met  at  the  "  Springs,"  whither  his  sons  had  sent  him 
for  a  few  weeks  to  recuperate  his  health  and  divert  his 
mind  —  they  felt  every  day  even  yet  the  hard  pinching  of 
the  economies  which  that  extravagance  had  entailed  upon 
them.  Though  Estwicke  gave  every  detail  so  lightly,  as 
he  recounted  the  scenes,  they  seemed  to  pass  visibly  be 
fore  the  jury.  Even  the  least  imaginative  among  them 
had  a  vivid  mental  picture  of  the  long,  mysterious,  wooded 
Cumberland  spurs,  and  the  grim  gray  cliff  projected 
against  a  red  sunset  sky,  and  heard  the  dead  man's  shrill 
tones,  breaking  into  the  still  evening  air,  as  he  rose,  and 
with  uplifted  hand  protested,  —  "A  man's  life  is  his  own, 
Captain  Estwicke,  —  shall  he  not  say  when  it  shall  end ! " 
And  again  there  was  a  conversation  in  the  freshness  of 
the  morning  as  they  sat  in  the  observatory,  which  hung 
over  the  precipice  and  quivered  and  shuddered  with  the 
wind,  and  here  he  had  calculated  the  depth  below,  and 
argued  with  his  companion  whether  it  were  certain  death 
to  fall.  And  once  they  drank  together  the  sparkling 
chalybeate  water  that  bubbled  out  from  a  cleft  in  a  crag. 
"I  wish  you  health,  my  young  friend,"  he  had  said. 
"  You  are  at  the  entrance  of  the  great  stage.  I  hope  you 
have  a  fine  r6le  to  play,  and  a  good  stock  company  of 
friends  for  support,  and  a  great  ovation  and  glorification 
awaiting  you.  I  am  but  a  supernumerary  at  best,  and 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  183 

nearer  the  exit  than  you  think.  Instead  of  this  health- 
giving  water  I  should  drink  some  deadly  drug.  And  then 
you  would  see  with  what  grace  I  can  make  my  bow  to  an 
audience  which  has  not  troubled  itself  overmuch  about 
me,  and  about  which  I  shall  trouble  myself  no  more." 

General  Yayne  rose  and  walked  heavily  out  of  the 
room.  He  went  down  the  stairs,  leaning  ponderously  on 
the  balustrade,  and  joined  Mr.  Rldgeway  who  chanced  to 
be  aimlessly  strolling  about  the  porch. 

"  Sir,"  said  General  Vayne,  facing  round  upon  his  friend 
in  the  flickering  shadow  of  the  leafless  sycamore  boughs, 
"sir,  the  quality  of  sympathy  is  the  one  quality  which 
lifts  the  human  animal  above  the  beasts  that  perish.  The 
man  who  lacks  it,  lacks  his  soul." 

After  a  pause  he  continued  impressively.  "It  is  a 
quality,  sir,  which  ennobles  a  beggar  and  adorns  a 
prince." 

Then  he  fell  suddenly  from  his  rounded  periods  into  an 
inconsequent  heap,  so  to  speak,  of  indignation. 

"I  —  tell  —  you  —  what  —  it  —  is  —  sir," — he  said  in 
that  effective  diminuendo  —  "  this  belated  invasion  —  this 
post-mortem  invasion,  as  one  might  call  it,  is  " — 

He  checked  himself ;  he  would  not  speak  disparagingly 
of  a  man  behind  his  back,  —  not  even  of  the  post-mortem 
invader,  his  own  familiar  home-made  Yankee  who  invaded 
his  native  soil. 

For  a  time  the  two  elderly  gentlemen  sat  on  the  front 
steps  in  silence.  Then  General  Vayne  rose  and  paced  up 
and  down  the  brick-floored  hall,  struggling  with  an  incli 
nation  to  return  to  the  court-room  and  hear  the  testimony 
that  was  so  repugnant  to  him.  Finally  the  impulse  pre 
vailed.  When  he  went  back  he  found  that  Estwicke  was 
under  cross-examination.  This  was  very  skilfully  con- 
ducted,  but  elicited  nothing  of  value,  except  that  he  had 


184  WHEKB  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

heard  other  men  who  had  never  committed  suicide  say 
many  like  things,  and  that  he  had  considered  these  of  no 
special  import  until  after  Major  Jartree's  death.  There 
were  no  contradictions,  no  admissions,  no  involutions. 
He  was  the  ideal  witness,  bold,  succinct,  and  as  transpa 
rent  as  crystal.  As  he  went  down  from  the  stand,  Mere 
dith,  with  the  camaraderie  of  youth,  indicated  by  a  gesture 
of  invitation,  a  vacant  chair  at  his  side.  Estwicke  hesi 
tated  ;  then,  saying  to  himself  that  he  would  not  truckle, 
he  would  not  seem  to  avoid  them,  he  sat  down  by  the 
defendant's  lawyers,  although  he  thought  as  he  did  so 
that  this  was  an  overt  act  of  perfect  accord  which  he 
might  well  spare  himself,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  and  they 
were  conspirators  in  some  dark  deed  against  the  widow 
and  the  orphans. 

The  plaintiff's  rebutting  testimony  was  now  to  be  taken, 
and  General  Vayne  was  the  first  witness  called. 

"  Will  you  state,"  said  the  counsel,  "  what  was  Major 
Jartree's  character  for  integrity." 

"  Sir,"  exclaimed  General  Vayne,  while  the  tears  rushed 
io  his  enthusiastic  eyes,  and  he  made  an  agitated  gesture 
as  if  he  would  clasp  his  missing  right  hand  —  clasping 
only  the  empty  air,  "  I  would  answer  for  his  integrity 
with  my  life  —  with  —  my  —  life  ! " 

There  was  throughout  the  room  an  electric  current  of 
painful  sympathy.  The  jury  were  surprised,  thrilled, 
touched.  The  hatchet-faced  Kendricks  was  on  his  feet  in 
an  instant  with  an  objection. 

"  Could  I  say  more  —  or  less  ?  "  cried  the  witness,  sud 
denly,  forestalling  the  plaintiffs  counsel,  "  knowing  him 
as  I  did  —  my  friend,  Major  Jartrce!  Only  the  voice  of 
the  stranger  is  raised  against  him  ! " 

All  eyes  were  turned  toward  Estwicke.  He  was  a. 
tingle  in  every  fibre,  his  face  grew  hot  and  scarlet,  the  < 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  185 

veins  in  his  temples  were  blue  and  swollen ;  he  made  a 
movement  as  if  he  were  about  to  rise. 

"  Steady  —  steady !  "  said  the  placid  and  debonair 
Meredith  in  an  undertone,  laying  a  staying  hand  on  Est- 
wicke's  shoulder. 

The  contentious  Kendricks  was  in  his  element.  "  I  ap 
peal  to  your  Honor,"  he  vociferated,  "to  protect  my 
witness" — Estwicke  gasped  —  "to  protect  my  witness 
against  these  aspersions  intended  to  prejudice  the  jury 
against  the  conclusive  testimony  he  has  given." 

"  Aspersions ! "  exclaimed  General  Vayne,  leaning  for 
ward  suddenly  toward  the  plaintiff's  lawyers.  "  Did  he 
say  aspersions  f  " 

There  was  a  jostling  rush  forward  to  obtain  a  better 
view  of  the  actors  in  the  little  drama,  and  the  constantly 
contracting  crowd  was  shaded  off  by  a  line  of  black  faces 
enlivened  by  glittering  ivories  and  the  whites  of  astonished 
rolling  eyes.  A  clamor  of  voices  had  arisen,  and  above 
all  dominated  the  sheriff's  stentorian  "  Silence  in  court !  " 

"  I  '11  commit  somebody  presently,"  said  the  judge  im 
personally.  He  had  a  wooden  face,  an  impassive  manner, 
and  a  brier-root  pipe  which  he  smoked  imperturbably 
throughout  the  proceedings.  He  was  a  man  of  few  words 
but  of  prompt  action;  at  the  sound  of  his  inexpressive 
voice  the  tumult  was  stilled  instantly. 

"  Will  your  Honor  be  so  good  as  to  admonish  the  wit 
ness  that  reflections  on  those  who  preceded  him  are  not 
evidence  and  are  inadmissible." 

"  The  witness  must  comport  himself  with  all  due  regard 
to  this  court  and  counsel,"  said  the  judge.  Then  the  ex 
amination  was  resumed. 

"What  was  Major  Jartree's  habit  of  conversation?" 

"He  often  spoke  figuratively.  He  might  have  been 
easily  misunderstood  by  a  man  of  different  mental  calibre 
—  a  literal-minded  man." 


186  WHEEE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

"  Will  your  Honor  instruct  the  witness  to  confine  him- 
self  to  the  necessary  replies,"  exclaimed  Kendricks,  again 
on  his  feet.  "The  witness  does  not  answer  questions. 
He  is  only  seeking  to  utilize  Captain  Estwicke's  testimony, 
which  he  has  heard,  to  make  an  argument.  I  see  that  we 
ought  to  have  had  all  these  witnesses  put  under  the 
rule." 

"  Too  late,  now,"  interpolated  the  judge,  dryly. 

"  Instead  of  answering  questions,"  pursued  Kendricks, 
"the  witness  is  trying  to  persuade  the  jury  that  all  Major 
Jartree  said  to  Captain  Estwicke  were  merely  flowers  of 
rhetoric  which" — with  a  fine  sneer — "his  limited  mental 
capacity  prevented  him  from  comprehending." 

"  Counsel  may  sit  down,"  said  the  impassive  judge,  who 
had  weathered  many  a  storm  like  this. 

Kendricks  sat  down  in  —  paradoxically  —  a  towering 
rage,  and  the  plaintiff's  lawyer  proceeded. 

"What  was  Major  Jartree's  temperament?" 

The  witness  looked  inquiringly. 

"  State  whether  he  was  kindly  disposed,  or  otherwise, 
and  anything  you  may  know  of  his  character." 

"  Kind,  sir  ?  He  had  the  kindest  heart  that  ever  beat ! 
He  was  humane,  and  gentle,  and  generous !  He  was  hn- 
bued  with  a  fine  char-r-ity."  Here  the  witness  demon 
strated  his  own  char-r-ity  by  pausing  impressively  to 
scowl  at  Estwicke.  "  He  saw  men,  not  as  they  were,  but 
as  they  sought  to  be.  He  revered  his  fellow-creature.  He 
beheld  in  man  the  majesty  of  his  Maker's  image !  " 

"  I  object,"  cried  Kendricks  hastily.  For  there  was  a 
change  ominous  to  his  client's  interests  in  the  expression 
of  the  jurymen.  They  had  all  known  and  been  "  mighty 
sorry"  for  Major  Jartree,  who  was  an  amiable  but  useless 
old  gentleman,  and  nobody's  enemy  but  his  own.  They 
tecognized  him  in  all  this,  but  somehow  he  loomed  before 


WHEKE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  187 

them  in  impressive  proportions  as  General  Vayne  lent 
them  his  moral  magnifying  glass.  "  If  the  court  please, 
this  is  not  evidence,"  persisted  Kendricks. 

"  Keep  strictly  to  the  point,"  said  the  judge. 

"  I  will,  your  Honor,"  returned  the  witness  earnestly. 

"  Was  he  a  religious  man  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  sincere  and  humble  Christian,"  said  General 
Vayne  conclusively  —  in  his  own  way  he  was  a  pious  man 
himself. 

"  Can  you  state  anything  which  would  intimate  his  pos 
sible  horror  of  the  crime  of  suicide  ?  " 

"  Sir,  he  entertained  a  deep  reverence  for  the  sanctity 
of  life.  He  took  ample  cognizance  of  that  stupendous 
right  to  exist  which  dignifies  the  meanest  worm  of  the 
earth.  I  once  heard  him  say  to  a  grandchild  who  was 
torturing  an  insect  — c  My  dear,  the  beetle  is  your  brother. 
Spare  him ! ' " 

He  repeated  this  with  a  noble  gesture  of  intercession 
and  a  fine  oratorical  effect.  He  fixed  his  magnetic  eyes 
on  the  jury  who  were  subtly  agitated  by  an  illogical  re 
sponsive  fervor,  and  then  with  a  sudden  wild  burst  of 
indignation  he  exclaimed :  — 

"And  they  ask  us  to  believe  that  this  man,  of  all  men, 
held  himself,  whom  God  had  so  nobly  endowed,  as  slighter 
than  the  beetle  —  and  took  his  life  and  falsified  his  char 
acter,  so  graciously  won,  to  cheat  an  insurance  com 
pany.  It  is  monstrous  —  monstrous!  My  friend!  Major 
Jartree ! " 

"  Stop  f  Stop  !  STOP  ! "  Kendricks  had  roared  in  a 
steadily  increasing  crescendo,  but  throughout  these  vocif 
erations  General  Vayne  had  kept  steadily  on,  regarding 
them  only  as  a  strategic  movement  of  the  enemy  designed 
to  divert  his  attention. 

"  Your  Honor,  I  insist  —  I  demand  that  you  admonish 


188  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

this  witness  as  to  his  duty,  and  require  him  to  conform  to 
it." 

"  The  witness  must  answer  questions,  and  say  nothing 
further,"  said  the  judge  emphatically. 

The  witness  turned  his  flushed,  enthusiastic  face  toward 
the  plaintiff's  lawyers  as  an  invitation  to  come  again. 
They  were  taking  heart  of  grace.  It  is  not  always  safe 
to  trust  the  appearance  of  a  jury,  but  those  twelve  good 
and  lawful  men  were  beginning  to  assume  the  aspect  of  a 
row  of  intent  and  eager  partisans.  An  influence  more 
potent  than  law  or  right  reason  swayed  them.  The  wit 
ness  had  fast  hold  of  their  heart-strings,  and  their  pulses 
quickened  under  his  touch. 

"What  was  the  character  of  Major  Jartree's  mind  ?" 

"  He  possessed  a  highly  cultivated  understanding,  sir. 
His  power  of  discrimination  between  right  and  wrong 
was  as  solid  as  the  heart  of  that  tree,  and  as  perfectly 
adjusted  as  the  hair-trigger  of  your  pistol,  sir." 

"What  was  his  habit  in  the  matter  of  prudence  or 
rashness  ?  " 

"He  was  cool  and  deliberate.  He  possessed  remark 
able  foresight.  I  will  instance  the  fact  that  he  foresaw, 
from  the  beginning,  the  result  of  the  Late  War  "  —  which 
on  the  day  of  the  surrender  had  been  a  great  surprise  to 
General  Yayne. 

"  You  are  not  here  to  instance  facts,"  exclaimed  Ken- 
dricks  pettishly. 

To  this  General  Vayne  paid  no  manner  of  attention, 
but  went  on  eagerly. 

"  If  he  were  capable  of  such  a  deed,  for  such  a  purpose 
—  the  mere  supposition  is  abhorrent  —  he  could  but  have 
perceived  that  it  would  of  necessity  defeat  itself." 

"  I  desire  to  ask  of  your  Honor,"  said  Kendricks,  once 
more  on  his  feet,  and  utterly  losing  control  of  his  temper, 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  189 

u  whether  throughout  the  testimony  of  this  witness  I  am 
to  be  subjected  to  the  ignominy  of  this  bravado,  and  my 
client's  interests  to  a  flagrant  injustice  ?  It  is  plain  that 
the  witness  does  not  desire  to  give  evidence.  He  only 
seeks  to  insinuate  prejudice  and  to  foster  misapprehension 
in  the  minds  of  the  jury." 

General  Yayne  rose  slowly  from  the  chair.  The  move 
ment  at  such  a  moment  was  unprecedented  and  unex 
pected,  and  there  was  a  breathless  pause  of  surprise  and 
doubt.  He  was  so  pre-eminently  a  calm  man  that  he 
never  found  it  necessary  to  subject  his  intentions  to  the 
scrutiny  and  question  imperative  with  men  of  impulse. 
His  gesture  was  appropriately  deliberate  as  he  reached  up 
to  the  judge's  desk  and  grasped  the  heavy  glass  inkstand 
that  stood  there.  The  next  moment  it  was  hurled  wildly 
at  the  head  of  the  defendant's  counsel,  impartially  dis 
tributing  its  contents  on  the  irreproachable  shirt-bosoms 
of  the  "  quality  "  of  Chattalla,  and  endangering  in  its  de 
fective  aim  the  row  of  negroes,  high  up  on  the  benches, 
who  dodged  as  one  man.  The  wind  of  its  flight,  as  it 
crashed  harmless  against  the  wall,  nearly  took  off  a 
darkey's  ear,  and  impressed  with  his  peril,  and  holding 
the  threatened  member  in  his  cautious  hand,  he  vocife 
rated  —  "I  tell  ye  now,  dey 'd  better  leff  de  ole  gen'al 
alone ! " 

Kendricks  had  —  instinctively,  perhaps  —  thrust  his  arm 
behind  him.  It  was  a  significant  motion.  The  next 
moment  something  steely  and  sinister  gleamed  in  his 
hand.  But  quick  as  he  was,  he  was  hardly  quick  enough. 
The  pistol  was  cocked,  but  not  levelled,  when  General 
Vayne  rushed  upon  him.  There  was  a  swift,  muscular 
movement  of  that  dextrous  left  arm,  and  the  learned 
counsel,  hit  fair  and  full  between  the  eyes,  was  sprawling 
upon  the  floor,  the  revolver  discharging  in  his  fall,  and 


190  WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

the  bullet  skipping  lightsomely  through  the  little  that  was 
left  of  the  crowd.  An  eager  curiosity  as  to  the  subse 
quent  proceedings  rallied  the  audience,  and  it  was  re- 
enforced,  in  a  solid  phalanx,  by  the  Grand  Jury,  that  had 
been  in  session  in  the  opposite  room,  and  was  roused 
from  its  absorptions  by  the  exhilarating  note  of  the  pistol. 

The  judge  sat  astounded  upon  the  bench.  "Why, 
bless  my  soul,  General !  "  he  exclaimed  weakly.  And 
then  once  more,  "  Bless  my  soul !  " 

He  gave,  however,  a  sign  of  return  to  judicial  con 
sciousness  in  imposing  a  fine  of  fifty  dollars  upon  General 
Vayne  for  contempt  of  court ;  and  to  the  lovers  of  sensa 
tion  it  seemed  that  the  Grand  Jury  was  providentially 
close  at  hand,  for  it  went  back  to  its  den  and  indicted  the 
stranger  for  carrying  concealed  weapons. 

"  Mr.  Sheriff,"  said  the  judge,  "  adjourn  the  court  till 
two  o'clock." 

"  Oyez !  Oyez !  Oyez !  "  quavered  Mr.  Sheriff,  greatly 
distraught.  "The  honorable  Circuit  Court  stands  ad 
journed  till  two  of  the  clock!" 

General  Vayne's  friends  had  hustled  him  oat  of  the 
room.  He  was  in  the  deepest  humiliation.  The  want  of 
dignity  in  his  demonstration  smote  upon  him  sorely. 
That  he  should  have  so  far  forgotten  himself !  That  he 
should  lift  his  hand  against  his  fellow-man  —  without  a 
pistol  in  it ! 

When  his  colleague  had  left  the  room  the  defendant's 
junior  counsel  walked  to  the  other  door  and  waylaid  a 
plethoric,  eager,  unwieldy  old  man  who  was  hastening 
after  General  Vayne. 

"  Let  me  detain  you  a  moment,"  said  Meredith  politely. 
"Mr.  Ridgeway,  I  think?" 

The  old  gentleman,  facing  about,  solemnly  acknowl- 
«dged  it. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  191 

"  This  is  a  terrible  affair,  Mr.  Ridgeway,  and  for  Gen 
eral  Yayne's  own  sake  it  must  not  be  allowed  to  stand  as 
it  is.  As  you  are  a  friend  of  his,  you  must  help  me  to  get 
an  apology  from  him." 

The  old  gentleman  seemed  on  the  verge  of  apoplexy. 
JJe  became  scarlet  in  the  face  as  he  stood  unsteadily  be 
fore  his  junior.  He  spluttered  and  gasped  in  his  excite 
ment  ;  his  eager  words  struggled  for  precedence,  and  ran 
over  each  other  —  "Anapology? —  'napology,  sir?  An- 
apology  for  being  shot  at ! " 

"  The  pistol  was  discharged  when  Mr.  Kendricks  was 
knocked  down,"  said  Meredith.  "Do  you  think  it  is  fair 
to  conclude  that  he  would  have  fired  it  ?  " 

"  Wha  —  what  was  he  doing  with  it,  then  ?  "  spluttered 
the  old  gentleman  sarcastically. 

"  Don't  you  admit  the  possibility  that  he  drew  it  to  in 
timidate  General  Yayne  —  he  could  not  stand  still  and  be 
struck,  and  he  could  not  strike  a  maimed  man.  You 
don't  reflect,  Mr.  Ridgeway,  that  General  Yayne  will 
occupy  the  intolerable  position  of  taking  advantage  of 
that  circumstance.  Of  course  Mr.  Kendricks  can  do 
nothing  but  submit  to  the  indignity." 

The  old  gentleman  tugged  meditatively  at  his  tuft  of 
beard,  as  if  it  had  some  cerebral  connection  and  he 
sought  thus  to  stimulate  mental  activity. 

As  the  lawyer  was  accustomed  to  present  only  one  side 
of  a  question,  and  Mr.  Ridgeway  to  see  only  one  side, 
neither  took  any  notice  of  Mr.  Kendricks's  "  intolerable 
position,"  one  ignoring  it  from  intention  and  the  other 
from  fatuity.  And  at  this  moment,  that  gentleman, 
walking  the  narrow  bounds  of  his  room  at  the  hotel,  was 
absorbed  in  agonizing  deprecation  of  public  opinion, 
which  he  knew  would  not  take  into  account  a  hurled  ink 
stand  in  a  case  in  which  a  pistol  had  been  drawn  on  an  un« 
armed  and  maimed 


192  WHEEE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOI  GHT. 

In  a  sudden  flutter  of  anxiety,  Mr.  Ridgeway  .acceded, 
with  apoplectic  haste,  to  Meredith's  suggestion,  and  the 
ill-assorted  couple  crossed  the  square  to  one  of  the  law 
yer's  offices,  where  General  Yayne  sat  with  a  friend,  who, 
upon  recognizing  Meredith,  rose  and  left  the  room,  mar 
velling  greatly  as  to  his  mission. 

"  General  Yayne,"  said  Meredith,  who  had  previously 
met  the  elder  gentleman,  "  I  do  not  come  from  Mr.  Ken- 
dricks ;  understand  that.  But  I  think  some  disinterested 
person  should  say  to  you,  both  on  his  account  and  your 
own,  that  you  mistook  altogether  his  intention.  If  you 
had  been  calm,  you  would  have  realized  that  his  manner 
of  urging  his  objection  was  a  mere  matter  of  course ;  it 
was  his  duty  to  his  client's  interest  to  seek  to  injure  your 
testimony." 

"  Calm,  sir,  calm ! "  exclaimed  General  Vayne,  his  bald 
head  purple.  "  I  assure  you,  sir,  I  was  as  calm  as  I  am  at 
this  moment." 

"It  is  absurd,  General,"  said  Mr.  Ridgeway,  eagerly, 
"to  attribute  to  a  sane  man  an  intention  of  seriously 
reflecting  upon  you.  Your  friends  cannot  sufficiently 
regret  that  under  this  delusion  you  should  have  permitted 
yourself  to  insult  a  gentleman  "  — 

"And  a  gentleman  in  the  discharge  of  a  purely  pro 
fessional  duty,"  added  the  wily  young  diplomatist. 

General  Yayne  sprang  up  and  began  to  walk  back  and 
forth  the  length  of  the  apartment,  nervously  pulling  his, 
mustache. 

"And  in  the  presence  of  a  motley  throng,"  said  the 
elder  peacemaker. 

"  Bringing  a  court  of  justice  into  contempt,"  said  tho 
lawyer. 

"And  offering  a  spectacle  of  insubordination  to  the 
men  of  your  command,  who  bold  von  as  an  exemplar," 
pursued  Mr.  Ridgeway. 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  193 

The  unsuspecting  subject  of  all  this  craft  groaned 
aloud. 

"Inflicting  a  public  humiliation,  and  personal  injury, 
and  pecuniary  loss  upon  a  man  who  only  sought  to  do  his 
duty  to  his  client,"  said  Meredith. 

The  simple-hearted  gentleman  paused  in  his  rapid 
striding  to  and  fro,  and  with  that  agitated  gesture,  as  if 
he  would  clasp  his  missing  hand,  he  turned  credulous 
eyes  first  on  one  of  the  tacticians,  then  on  the  othei . 

"  And  a  stranger  in  the  town  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ridge- 
way,  capping  the  climax. 

"I  —  I  —  will  write  to  him,"  declared  General  Yayne, 
altogether  overwhelmed.  He  turned  to  the  table,  and 
placed  pen,  ink,  and  paper  with  that  adroit  left  hand. 
"I  —  I  —  am  afraid  I  have  been  very  hasty  —  very 
wrong  —  I  will  write."  Then,  suddenly,  "No,  I  will  not 
write.  The  affront  was  offered  in  the  presence  of  a  large 
assemblage  "  —  this  was  his  way  of  dignifying  that  mot 
ley  little  crowd;  "I  will  apologize  publicly,  sir,  pub 
licly." 

He  looked  about  him  wildly  for  his  hat,  caught  it  up, 
and  strode  with  his  buoyant  step  into  the  sunshine,  twirl 
ing  his  gray  mustache,  and  glancing  keenly  about  for  the 
object  of  his  search. 

The  other  two  had  risen  at  the  same  instant,  and  aa 
they  were  about  to  follow  him  out  of  the  door,  the  young 
lawyer,  equally  surprised  and  elated  by  the  readiness  with 
which  peace  had  been  patched  up,  attempted  to  exchange 
a  leer  of  congratulation  with  his  red-faced  coadjutor. 
The  demonstration  was  received  with  an  expression  of 
blank  inquiry. 

"  Why,  God  bless  me ! "  thought  young  America,  feel 
ing  much  like  a  child  caught  making  faces,  and  mastering 
ihe  situation  with  an  effort,  "  here 's  another !  " 


194  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

Kendricks  had  already  emerged  from  his  room  at  the 
hotel.  It  had  required  some  nerve  to  face  Chattalla 
again,  alive,  as  he  knew  it  must  be,  with  its  enjoyment  of 
the  "  fight  free  for  all,"  but  he  did  not  want  the  "  cursed 
little  town  "  to  say  he  was  hiding,  and  with  this  view  he 
was  strolling  listlessly  about  the  public  square.  There 
General  Yayne  met  him.  Admiring  Chattalla  could  only 
see  from  a  distance  the  dumb  show  of  an  oratorical 
apology,  and  catch,  now  and  then,  the  echo  of  a  rotund 
period.  It  seemed,  however,  that  the  thing  was  very 
handsomely  done,  and  handsomely  received,  too ;  for  this 
unexpected  turn  of  affairs  had  solved  the  lawyer's  di 
lemma,  which  had  offered  the  equally  impracticable  alter 
natives  of  challenging  a  one-armed  man,  or  submitting  to 
the  ignominy  of  a  blow.  His  relief  gave  his  manner  an 
unwonted  geniality,  and  as  they  parted,  Chattalla,  look 
ing  after  them,  said  that  this  was  no  doubt  the  best  solu 
tion,  although  the  whole  affair,  from  the  inkstand  to  the 
apology,  was  painfully  "irregular."  Then  knots  of  men 
fell  to  talking  about  the  propriety  of  blows,  and  apolo 
gies,  under  "The  Code." 

It  was  a  long  day  to  Estwicke,  and  fraught  with  many 
anxieties,  but  late  in  the  afternoon,  as  he  pressed  with 
the  crowd  out  of  the  court-house  yard,  they  all  seemed 
merged  in  the  canvassing  of  his  position  in  regard  to 
General  Vayne,  and  how  far  it  might  affect  the  future. 
1  le  had  inwardly  resented  the  allusion  to  himself  in  the 
court-room,  and  he  was  not  a  man  to  tamely  submit  to  an 
affr  }nt.  But  how  was  it  possible  to  openly  resent  it  from 
one  old  enough  to  be  his  father,  whose  hospitality  he  had 
often  accepted,  and  with  whose  family  he  was  on  terms 
of  cordial  friendship?  Then,  too,  impartially  viewed, 
the  ground  of  offence  was  untenable.  He  had  been 
called  a  stranger,  which  was  true,  and  it  had  been  inti 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  195 

mated  that  he  might  have  misunderstood  General  Vayne's 
friend.  Ought  he,  in  justice  to  himself,  to  allow  this  to 
bar  all  further  intercourse  between  them ;  to  go  to  Gen 
eral  Vayne's  house  no  more ;  to  relinquish,  in  effect,  his 
hope  of  winning  the  woman  he  loved,  and  every  dear 
prospect  of  the  future  ? 

The  question  was  summarily  settled.  As  he  crossed 
the  square  he  passed  General  Vayne.  The  elder  gen 
tleman  returned  his  bow  with  a  courtesy  as  fierce  and  as 
punctilious  as  if  they  faced  each  other  at  twelve  paces. 
Estwicke  went  on,  his  blood  on  fire,  swearing  a  mighty 
oath  that  he  would  take  what  cognizance  he  could  of  his 
own  dignity,  and  that,  whatever  sacrifices  might  be  in 
volved,  he  would  not  go  again  to  the  house  of  a  man  who 
had  offered  him  a  public  affront,  confirming  its  delib 
erate  intention  by  his  manner  afterward,  which  intimated 
a  feeling  approaching  enmity. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

r~TlHE  lawyer  wnom  Miss  St.  Pierre  was  destined  to 
-L  consult  had  no  prevision  of  his  coming  client.  Such 
prevision  might  have  induced  some  exhilaration  of  spirit, 
for  after  court  was  adjourned  on  the  day  of  the  "shindy," 
as  Meredith  characterized  it  —  the  affair  always  figured  in 
General  Vayne's  subsequent  meditations  as  "  that  deplor 
able  encounter" — the  young  man,  strolling  down  Main 
Street,  was  rather  dismayed  by  the  prospect  of  the  long 
evening  before  him ;  now  that  the  abnormal  excitements 
of  the  day  were  over  he  was  beginning  to  be  impressed 
with  the  facilities  of  Chattalla  for  unlimited  dulness.  Ha 
felt  it,  therefore,  as  something  in  the  nature  of  a  rescue 
when  he  suddenly  heard  his  name  called,  and,  turning, 
saw  a  carriage,  which  had  stopped  near  the  sidewalk,  a 
face  that  he  knew  framed  in  the  window,  and  a  delicate 
gray  glove  beckoning  to  him  with  much  cordiality  of  ges 
ture.  He  threw  away  his  cigar  and  hastened  to  shake 
hands  with  Mrs.  Percy. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  let  me  know  that  you  were  here  ? 
Why  haven't  you  been  out  to  see  me?"  she  exclaimed, 
graciously.  For  she  made  a  special  point  of  cultivating 
euch  of  her  pliable  son's  acquaintances  as  were  not  given 
over  to  the  iniquitous  beguilements  of  the  wine  bottle  and 
the  spring  races.  Besides,  in  the  dreary  interval  which 
she  spent  in  the  country  between  her  winters  in  New 
Orleans  and  her  summers  at  the  White  Sulphur,  she 
196 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  197 

prized  "  company "  onfy  as  a  woman  who  is  fond  of  so 
ciety,  but  suffers  a  periodic  bucolic  eclipse,  can  prize  it. 
She  carried  her  forty-eight  years  lightly,  —  the  style  of 
her  black-velvet  dress  and  bonnet  betokened  that  she 
accorded  much  attention  to  the  mandates  of  fashion,  and 
her  religious  friends  objected  with  disparaging  piety  that 
she  was  a  worldly-minded  woman.  She  had  a  fresh  com 
plexion,  dark  hair,  a  Roman  nose,  bright  gray  eyes,  and  a 
charming  smile.  She  bent  this  full  upon  him  as  she 
added,  "When  did  you  reach  Chattalla?" 

"  Eight  o'clock  this  morning,"  said  Meredith,  answering 
all  three  questions  at  once. 

"  Ah,  then  that  explains  it.  I  forgive  you  on  condition 
of  future  good  behavior.  But  you  must  come  out  and 
dine  with  us  this  afternoon.  Jump  in.  I  won't  take  any 
refusal." 

"  You  won't  have  the  opportunity,  I  assure  ycu,"  said 
Meredith,  briskly  stepping  into  the  carriage. 

Thus  it  was  he  chanced  to  meet  Miss  St.  Pierre,  who 
was  still  Mrs.  Percy's  guest. 

She  introduced  him  graciously  to  the  young  girl  who 
sat  beside  her.  "  I  am  so  glad  you  happened  to  be  here 
while  I.  still  have  Miss  St.  Pierre  with  me.  I  take  great 
pleasure  in  making  my  two  most  charming  young  friends 
known  to  each  other,"  she  added,  with  that  habit  of 
blandishment  which  was  not  so  patently  insincere  as  to 
detract  from  the  pleasure  its  exercise  afforded  to  those  in 
her  good  books. 

Her  two  most  charming  young  friends  smiled  rather 
inanely  at  each  other  in  default  of  an  appropriate  re 
sponse.  And  it  presently  occurred  to  Meredith  that  the 
other  charming  young  friend  was  habitually  in  default  in 
this  respect.  She  did  not,  as  he  phrased  it,  "  talk  back," 
and  although  he  admired  the  acquiescent  gentleness  of  her 


198  WHERE  THE   BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

voice  in  her  monosyllabic  replies,  and  her  blonde  pretti- 
ness,  enhanced  by  its  sombre  crape  setting,  his  interest  in 
her  died  out  naturally  enough  as  he  grew  absorbed  in  the 
spirited  dialogue  with  Mrs.  Percy,  who  did  "  talk  back." 
It  was  soon  revivified,  however,  and  by  an  odd  circum 
stance —  a  very  odd  circumstance  it  seemed  to  him  — 
which  came  about  in  the  course  of  conversation. 

"  And  by  the  way,"  said  Mrs.  Percy,  after  a  time,  "  tell 
me  what  brought  you  to  Chattalla  —  if  it  was  not  to  see 
me?" 

"  Nothing  half  so  pleasant  —  professional  business." 

"  Ah ! "  said  Mrs.  Percy,  shaking  her  head  with  a  mel 
ancholy  gesture,  the  effect  of  which  was  impaired  to  some 
degree  by  the  frivolous  flutter  it  occasioned  in  the  jet- 
tipped  plumes  on  the  top  of  her  bonnet.  "  If  Horace 
would  only  devote  himself,  as  you  do,  to  some  serious 
solid  pursuit !  I  tell  him  you  are  an  example  for  him.  If 
he  would  only  enter  the  profession  too  ! " 

"  There 's  so  much  room  for  him ! "  cried  Meredith,  with 
a  laugh.  "  Tell  him  that,  too,  —  from  me." 

Mrs.  Percy  waved  her  fan  in  remonstrant  dissent. 
"  Young  men  used  to  say  that  kind  of  thing  when  I  was 
a  girl  —  away  back  in  the  middle  ages.  You  young  pessi 
mists  have  n't  a  patent  on  that  sort  of  railing.  Well,  I 
hope  the  court  will  keep  you  here  for  a  good  while." 

Antoinette  suddenly  fixed  her  eyes  upon  him.  Speaking 
of  her  own  accord  for  the  first  time,  she  asked  gravely,  as 
if  the  matter  had  a  vital  significance,  — 

"  Are  you  a  lawyer,  Mr.  Meredith  ?  " 

This  personal  inquiry  from  a  stranger  was  so  abrupt  and 
unexpected  that  Meredith  stared  for  an  instant — then 
could  not  forbear  a  smile.  To  justify  the  smile,  he  replied 
with  an  attempt  at  pleasantry.  "  I  can't  deny  the  soft 
impeachment."  After  this  the  conversation  flowed  on  i» 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  199 

orthodox  fashion.  The  incident  did  not  leave  his  thoughts, 
however.  He  could  not  determine  to  what  he  might  attrib 
ute  this  interest.  She  had  put  the  question  in  so  serious  a 
manner.  She  had  waited  for  the  reply  with  eager  attention. 
It  flattered  him,  and  it  piqued  his  curiosity.  "  Why  did  she 
ask  ?  "  he  marvelled.  "  What  does  it  matter  to  her  whether 
[  am  a  judge  or  a  hod-carrier  ?  " 

Ever  and  anon  as  he  sat  opposite,  he  glanced  furtively 
at  her.  She  seemed  absorbed  now  —  meditative.  He 
wondered  what  she  could  be  thinking  about.  He  had  no 
idea  it  was  anything  so  solid  as  business. 

She  had  not  been  stricken  by  the  personal  interest  which 
his  vanity  was  fain  to  ascribe  to  her,  but  she  was  very 
favorably  impressed  with  his  bright,  clever  face,  and  his 
air  of  decision  and  imperturbable  serenity ;  these  endow 
ments  aided  the  fact  that  he  was  a  lawyer,  which  sug 
gested  the  idea  that  she  might  have  him  to  investigate  the 
title  to  her  property,  and  also  to  decide  what  had  best  be 
done  to  discover  the  owner  of  the  locket  she  had  found. 

She  had  driven  into  Chattalla  to-day  with  Mrs.  Percy, 
intending  to  acquaint  her  with  these  perplexities,  and 
under  her  chaperonage  to  consult  some  lawyer  of  the 
town.  But  Mrs.  Percy  had  talked  so  much !  —  she  and 
her  particular  friends  were  victims  of  that  dissipation 
known  among  country  ladies  as  "  Spendirg  the  Day,"  and 
in  these  feminine  caucuses  they  became  singularly  well- 
vnformed  as  to  the  affairs  of  other  people ;  when  she  ob 
served  the  large  crowd  about  the  square,  which  indicated 
that  the  circuit  court  was  in  session,  she  gave  Antoinette 
so  minute  a  detail  of  all  the  litigation,  actual  and  incipient, 
in  which  mutual  acquaintances  were  involved,  that  at  last 
the  girl  was  fairly  frightened  from  the  intended  confi 
dence,  appreciating  how  disastrous  it  would  be  to  have 
people  speculating  about  an  hypothetical  flaw  in  her  title, 


200  WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

when  in  all  probability  there  was  no  Fortescue  living  to 
lay  claim  to  her  property,  and  perceiving  distinctly  that 
whatever  she  told  Mrs.  Percy  would,  however  unin 
tentionally,  be  finally  transmitted  to  the  county.  Even 
the  question  of  the  locket  was  so  intimately  connected 
with  these  interests  that  it  was  manifestly  unwise  to  ex 
cite  a  useless  romantic  curiosity  in  the  mystery  encircling 
it,  until  she  could  advise  with  a  lawyer  as  to  its  value  as 
proof  of  Fortescue's  death.  So  she  said  nothing,  and 
finally,  when  the  horses'  heads  were  turned  homeward, 
she  had  been  absorbed  in  disappointment  until  they  had 
chanced  to  meet  Meredith,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  a  law 
yer  had  been  elicited.  At  her  age  she  had  had  necessarily 
little  enough  experience  of  the  world,  and  that  little  was 
drawn  from  its  superficial  and  smiling  phases  of  life  in 
society  and  boarding-schools.  She  knew  nothing  what 
ever  of  its  sterner  aspects  and  commercial  habitudes. 
Conventional  as  she  was  in  every  look,  tone,  and  gesture, 
it  did  not  for  a  moment  occur  to  her  that  the  course  she 
now  had  in  contemplation  was  outre  in  any  respect ;  she 
did  not  recognize  the  impropriety  of  consulting  a  gentle 
man  professionally  who  was  out  on  a  holiday  and  in  the 
midst  of  a  visit  at  a  friend's  house ;  she  had  no  apprecia 
tion  of  the  recklessness  of  her  project,  and  gave  no  heed 
to  the  fact  that  she  had  never  heard  his  name  until  an 
hour  ago,  and  knew  nothing  of  him  or  his  reputation  at 
the  bar.  Now  and  then  she  glanced  at  him  as  she  sat 
opposite,  and  each  hurried  survey  strengthened  her  pur 
pose.  She  said  to  herself  that  he  had  an  intellectual  face, 
and  sagaciously  concluded  that  whatever  there  was  to 
know  in  the  law  Mr.  Temple  Meredith  had  probably  found 
it  out.  As  to  his  youth  —  the  reproach  and  shame  of  the 
neophytes  of  his  profession,  a  reproach  and  shame  which 
they  can  only  live  down  by  slow  degrees  —  she  never  once 


WHEBE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  201 

thought  of  his  youth.  Such  as  she  have  scant  regard  for 
the  value  of  experience.  Her  only  anxiety  was  the  fear 
that  an  opportunity  to  consult  him  would  not  be  pre 
sented. 

When  they  reached  Mrs.  Percy's  place  the  sun  was  going 
down  behind  the  heavy  woods  which,  at  this  distance  west 
ward  from  the  town,  still  stood  untouched.  The  air  was 
languorous  and  full  of  vernal  suggestions  —  but  for  the 
bare  boughs  that  encompassed  the  house,  a  large  modern 
brick  structure  faced  with  stone,  one  might  have  believed 
that  spring  had  come.  The  dark  masses  of  evergreens 
about  the  grounds  were  edged  with  a  most  vivid  and  deli 
cate  emerald  tint.  Here  and  there  the  eye  caught  the 
blaze  of  some  brilliant  hot-house  plant  already  set  out  in 
the  open  air.  The  windows  of  the  parlor  stood  wide  to 
the  breeze,  and  within  as  well  as  without  were  everywhere 
evidences  of  much  worldly  prosperity.  The  whole  scene 
was  a  wonderful  contrast  to  the  desolate  barren  that  lay 
ten  miles  away  and  north  of  Chattalla,  and  to  the  dilapi 
dated  cannon-shattered  house  that  stood  forlorn  and  alone 
in  its  midst. 

They  found  in  the  parlor  Mrs.  Percy's  mother,  a  plati 
tudinarian  meek  old  lady,  with  a  mouse-like  manner,  and 
ulways  more  or  less  agitated  by  an  intermittent  intention 
of  repressing  a  pair  of  too  airily  fluttering  diaphanous  cap- 
brings.  She  had  been  additionally  perturbed  by  the  late 
ness  of  their  return,  for  it  was  long  past  the  dinner  hour, 
and  she  feared  some  accident  had  befallen  them.  Here, 
too,  awaiting  them,  was  old  Mr.  Ridgeway,  who  had 
stopped  on  his  way  home  from  town,  eager  and  excited 
about  the  prospective  route  of  a  new  turnpike  that  wac  to 
e  built  through  these  broad  acres  of  woodland,  and  de 
termined  that  Mrs.  Percy's  influence  as  a  stockholder  in 
thfj  company  should  be  used  with  discretion,  which  in  his 


202  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

opinion  was  synonymous  with  his  interest,  for  he  owned 
the  adjoining  tract.  He  was  easily  enough  persuaded  to 
stay  to  dinner,  which  was  presently  announced,  and 
throughout  the  meal  he  monopolized  the  conversation 
• — talking  turnpike  steadily  on,  without  hindrance  or 
pause.  It  was  perhaps  in  the  hope  of  effecting  some 
diversion  that  Mrs.  Percy,  instead  of  returning  to  the  par 
lor  when  they  had  risen  from  the  table,  led  the  way  out 
upon  the  front  veranda.  The  hope  was  vain ;  the  party 
was  hardly  established  here  in  rustic  chairs  before  a  square 
of  light  was  projected  from  each  of  the  windows,  as  the 
servant  placed  the  lamps  in  the  parlor ;  old  Mr.  Ridgeway 
sprang  up  with  a  buoyancy  scarcely  to  be  expected  in  a 
man  of  his  size,  produced  from  his  pocket  a  map  of  the 
county,  and  insisted  that  the  two  elder  ladies  should  go 
within  and  have  the  evidence  of  their  own  eyes  as  to  the 
triumphs  of  turnpikeage  which  he  proposed. 

Meredith  watched  the  trio  through  the  open  window 
for  a  moment  —  the  visitor  gesticulatory  and  given  over 
to  long  exhortations ;  Mrs.  Percy  indifferent  and  as  likely 
to  favor  one  side  as  the  other ;  and  old  Mrs.  Lorent,  scrutin 
izing  the  map  with  so  close  an  attention  that  her  fluttering 
capstrings  were  brought  in  dangerous  proximity  to  the 
lamp-chimney.  Then  he  realized  all  at  once  that  he  was 
left  to  the  mercy  of  the  catechistical  young  lady.  He 
looked  at  her  narrowly  as  she  sat  near  him  in  the  mingled 
light  of  the  moon  and  the  glow  that  fell  through  the 
open  windows.  She  seemed  thoughtful.  Her  eyes  were 
downcast.  Her  face  was  very  grave. 

Suddenly  she  glanced  up.  "  Mr.  Meredith,"  she  said, 
"  as  you  are  a  lawyer  it  has  occurred  to  me  that  I  might 
ask  you  to  examine  the  title  of  some  property  I  have  in 
Graftenburg  —  I  have  been  told  that  the  title  is  de. 
fective." 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  203 

The  surprise  in  his  face  which  he  could  not  control  made 
her  aware  how  far  she  had  departed  from  established 
usage.  She  hardly  gave  him  time  for  his  murmured  — 
"  I  shall  be  very  happy."  She  continued  hastily  — 

"  Perhaps  this  is  not  the  customary  way  of  managing 
such  things.  I  'm.  sure  I  don't  know.  I  've  had  no  ex 
perience  in  business  affairs.  This  property  only  recently 
came  into  my  possession.  Before,  I  had  nothing."  She 
had  lost  her  equilibrium  and  was  blushing  painfully.  "  I 
suppose  I  seem  odd  enough  to  die ! "  she  concluded 
desperately. 

This  poor  young  lady  considered  oddity  one  of  the 
worst  forms  of  wickedness,  and  she  was  conscious  of  ap 
pearing  very  queer  indeed  in  Temple  Meredith's  eyes. 
In  her  confusion  and  mortification  she  was  on  the  brink 
of  tears.  He  hastened  to  reassure  her. 

"  I  will  do  everything  that  is  possible  in  the  matter," 
he  said  earnestly.  "  Now,  what  is  the  difficulty  about 
the  title?" 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  express  these  things  intelligibly 
—  as  men  do,"  said  the  conventional  Miss  St.  Pierre, 
ooking  at  him  with  appealing  eyes,  her  cheeks  crimson, 
her  lips  unsteady.  "  I  shall  have  to  tell  it  in  my  own 
fashion  —  you  must  try  to  understand  it." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  make  it  plain  enough,"  he 
.  eplied  in  a  matter-of-course  manner,  as  if  the  whole  con 
fidence  were  a  routine  affair. 

But  he  was  thinking  in  great  enjoyment  that  this  was 
indeed  an  innovation  upon  the  regular  professional  consul 
tation.  Instead  of  the  prosaic  mid-day  atmosphere  of  his 
law-office  in  Marston,  the  din  of  the  streets,  the  burly 
office  furniture,  the  frowning  assemblage  of  law-books, 
they  were  encompassed  by  a  romantic  blue  twilight, 
pierced  through  and  through  with  silver  shafts  from  the 


204  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

moon.  A  whippoorwill's  plaint  was  rising  from  the  dark 
forest.  There  were  delicate  shadows  of  budding  vines 
traced  on  the  floor  of  the  veranda.  And  what  an  infinite 
remove  from  all  his  experience  of  the  genus  client  was 
this  fair-haired,  dark-robed  young  girl,  blushing  and  fal 
tering,  and  almost  in  tears  because  she  could  not  explain 
a  matter  of  business  "  like  a  man." 

His  father  had  early  warned  him  never  to  undertake 
business  without  a  retainer.  Meredith  remembered  in 
secret  and  unfilial  glee  this  golden  rule  of  practice,  and 
laid  himself  heavy  odds  that  his  client  would  not  know 
the  meaning  of  the  term  were  it  demanded  of  her. 

As  she  detailed  the  story  her  composure  returned,  and 
it  became  more  easily  maintained  when  she  observed  the 
change  in  his  face  as  his  covert  amusement,  of  which  she 
had  been  subtly  aware,  gave  way  to  a  grave  interest  and 
much  surprise.  There  was  a  pause  when  she  had  con 
cluded.  He  silently  revolved  what  had  been  said. 

"  Although  finding  the  locket  in  an  empty  grave  on  the 
battlefield  is  not  positive  proof,  it  is  certainly  presumptive 
evidence  of  the  man's  death,"  he  remarked  at  length. 
"Still  he  may  be  alive.  It  is  possible  that  he  lost  the 
locket,  or  it  may  have  been  stolen  from  him." 

"  Or  he  may  have  given  it  away,"  she  suggested. 

"  Not  likely,"  the  lawyer  replied.  "  It  is  evidently  a 
woman's  gift  to  him,  valuable  chiefly  from  association. 
That  fact  indicates  his  presence  on  the  spot.  The  battle 
field  "  —  he  repeated,  meditatively.  "  Do  you  know  cer 
tainly  that  he  was  in  either  army  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say.  I  know  very  little  of  him  beyond  his 
relationship  to  me,  and  I  never  saw  him." 

"You  can  think  of  no  way  by  which  he  or  his  heirs 
can  be  discovered,  or  the  fact  of  his  death  proved  ?  " 

"None  at  all.     He  was  a  wild,  reckless,  wandering 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  205 

man.  And  he  was  singularly  alone  in  the  world,  having 
no  relatives  of  his  father's  family,  and  of  his  mother's 
connections  I  am  the  nearest,  although  the  relationship  is 
very  distant." 

There  was  another  silence.  The  wind  rustled  in  the 
vines  and  stirred  her  fair  hair ;  the  shifting  moonbeams 
trembled  on  the  floor. 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  well  for  you  to  look  at  a  paper 
which  Mr.  Travis  sent  me,"  she  said,  in  a  business-like 
voice.  "  It  is  an  extract  from  the  record." 

His  lips  quivered  slightly. 

"  Oh,  ought  I  to  say  an  c  abstract '  of  the  record  ?  "  she 
cried.  "  How  should  I  know !  " 

"  It  would  be  dreadful  if  you  knew !  "  Meredith  pro 
tested,  with  a  laugh.  "  But  let  me  see  the  '  extract.' " 

She  laughed  too  a  little,  but  cast  a  deprecatory  glance 
upon  him  as  she  rose  and  swept  past  him  through  the 
long  window  into  the  parlor,  where  she  searched  a  little 
inlaid  trinket  of  a  writing-desk  for  the  document  which 
was  incongruous  enough  with  its  dainty  receptacle. 

Mrs.  Percy,  still  infinitely  bored,  sitting  by  the  table 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  followed  her  motions  with 
wistful  eyes. 

"  Somebody's  photograph  she  is  going  to  show  him,  I 
suppose,"  thought  this  victim  of  the  Turnpike  Company. 

As  Antoinette  came  back  the  young  man  rose  and  re 
ceived  the  roll  of  surly-looking  legal  cap  with  a  bow  and 
smile  which  might  have  been  a  fit  acknowledgment  if  she 
had  given  him  a  rose  instead.  Then  he  leaned  against 
the  window-frame  and  began  to  flutter  the  pages,  the 
handwriting  being  distinct  enough  to  his  young  eyes  even 
at  that  distance  from  the  lamp. 

"  It  is  not  a  photograph,"  said  Mrs.  Percy,  watching 
them  from  within ;  "  it  must  be  sheet-music,  or  more 
likely  a  copy  of  verses." 


206  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT. 

Antoinette  had  dropped  again  into  her  little  rustic  arm 
chair  ;  she  watched  him  intently  while  he  read,  altogether 
unaware  that  now  and  then,  as  he  turned  the  pages,  he 
was  vividly  conscious  of  her  upturned,  childish  face,  and 
her  appealing  eyes.  She  herself  had  found  the  paper 
hard  reading,  and  she  rather  wondered  that  he  should 
whisk  over  the  leaves  so  lightly,  seeming  to  take  in  only 
a  point  here  and  there.  But  with  the  lawyer's  sixth 
sense,  acquired  by  the  habit  of  manipulating  facts  envel 
oped,  mummy-like,  in  the  infinite  swathings  of  technical 
verbiage,  he  had  easily  separated  all  that  was  important 
from  the  rest. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  as  he  handed  it  back  to  her,  "  I  have 
extracted  something  from  this,  although  I  hope  you  won't 
accuse  me  of  having  abstracted  anything." 

She  was  surprised  at  the  good  nature  with  which  she 
regarded  his  harping  on  that  trifling  mistake. 

"  If  an  '  extract '  from  a  poem,  why  not  from  the 
record?"  she  argued. 

"  Why  not?"  he  rejoined,  with  a  laugh. 

She,  too,  smiled  as  she  leaned  her  elbow  on  the  arm  of 
her  chair,  propping  her  flushed  cheek  with  the  stiff  roll 
of  legal  cap,  that  was  doubtless  surprised  to  find  itself  in 
such  pretty  company. 

Meredith  had  grown  grave,  reflective.  "  I  think,"  he 
said,  still  lounging  against  the  window-frame  and  checking 
off  each  point  he  made  by  tapping  his  hand  with  her  fan, 
which  he  had  picked  up  from  the  floor,  "  I  think  it  more 
than  probable  that  Fortescue's  remedy  is  barred  by  the 
statute.  Mrs.  Perrier  bought  this  property  in  April,  1857, 
immediately  after  the  determination  of  Clendenning's 
estate  per  autre  vie.  And  then,  of  course,  Fortescue's 
right  of  action  had  accrued.  The  law  in  Tennessee 
allows  for  the  institution  of  proceedings  to  recover  real 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  207 

estate  seven  years  next  after  the  right  of  action  has 
accrued.  But  on  account  of  the  disorder  and  confusion 
caused  by  the  war,  a  period  of  something  more  than  five 
years  —  from  the  sixth  day  of  May,  1861,  to  the  first  day 
of  January,  1867  —  has  been  prescribed,  during  which  no 
statute  of  limitations  can  be  held  to  have  operated. 
Now,  you  see,  Mrs.  Perrier  held  the  property  under  a 
deed  duly  registered,  claiming  it  as  her  own  throughout 
the  seven  years  originally  limited,  and  the  period  allowed 
for  the  war.  Unless  Fortescue  or  his  heir  can  set  up 
some  disability,  there  is  no  show  for  him  now." 

"  If  —  if  —  if  he  were  disabled  in  any  way,  would  there 
be  a  —  a  — '  show '  for  him  ?  "  she  asked  earnestly. 

He  was  holding  her  fan  to  his  lips,  and  looking  at  her 
over  it  with  laughing  eyes. 

"  Oh,  now  I  know  that  I  have  said  something  dread 
fully  ignorant,"  she  cried  in  deprecation. 

"  You  can't  imagine  how  it  shocks  me,"  he  protested. 

"  Of  course,"  she  argued,  "  if  I  knew  all  the  law  that 
there  is,  I  should  n't  apply  to  you." 

"There's  a  compliment  in  that,"  declared  Meredith. 
"  You  did  n't  intend  it  for  me,  but  there  is  no  law  that  I 
know  of  to  prevent  me  from  appropriating  it." 

She  glanced  away,  laughing  in  confusion,  and  then  the 
learned  counsellor,  flirting  the  fan,  proceeded,  — 

"  Now,  I  '11  tell  you  all  about  the  disability.  There  are 
certain  persons  against  whom  the  prescription  does  not 
run  —  minors ;  married  women ;  persons  '  beyond  the  seas,' 
which,  in  Tennessee,  means,  'without  the  limits  of  the 
United  States;'  persons  non  compos  mentis;  and  also, 
in  some  of  the  States,  persons  who  are  imprisoned,  —  all 
are  excepted  by  the  law  if,  when  their  right  first  accrued, 
they  were  laboring  under  any  one  of  these  disabilities,  in 
which  case  they  are  allowed  three  years  next  after  the 


208  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

removal  of  the  disability  to  bring  their  action.  Kow,  it 
IB  possible  that  Fortescue  or  his  heir  may  have  been 
under  one  of  these  disabilities,  and  may  yet  appear  and 
make  a  fight  for  the  property ;  but  I  think  it  exceedingly 
improbable." 

She  remained  silent  and  meditative  for  a  few  moments. 
Then  she  repeated,  in  a  thoughtful  voice,  like  a  child 
learning  a  lesson,  "  minors,  married  women,  persons  '  be 
yond  the  seas,'  lunatics,  and  convicts.  That's  a  nice 
company !  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,"  she  added,  with 
the  rising  inflection  of  a  laugh,  and  an  archness  that  was 
unexpected  and  uncharacteristic,  "  did  it  ever  occur  to 
you  that  the  law  seems  to  consider  married  women  per 
sons  to  whom  the  fullest  sympathy  should  be  accorded 
and  exceptional  privileges  allowed,  in  common  with  other 
grievously  afflicted  humanity,  those  who  have  suffered 
loss  of  mind,  for  instance,  or  imprisonment?" 

"  The  law  is  a  cynic,"  said  Meredith  as  he  stepped  out 
into  the  moonlight. 

And  there  he  sat  in  its  gentle  radiance,  discoursing 
mellifluously  of  the  statute  of  limitations,  of  seisin,  of 
disseisin  in  fact  and  by  election,  of  tenancy  at  will  and 
at  sufferance,  and  cognate  "curious  and  cunning  learn 
ings  of  the  law  " —  emphasizing  all  his  remarks  with  the 
fan,  but  never  lapsing  from  an  almost  judicial  gravity, 
influenced  by  a  desire  that  she  should  understand  the  sub 
ject  in  all  its  bearings. 

As  she  listened,  she  thought  him  a  prodigy  of  legal 
erudition,  and  could  not  sufficiently  applaud  her  own  acu« 
men  and  tact  which  had  led  her  to  place  her  interests  is 
his  hands.  She  felt  altogether  at  ease  now.  He  possessed, 
besides  all  his  superior  mental  endowments,  an  extreme 
caution,  —  a  quality  which  she  held  in  high  esteem,  and 
which,  as  a  general  thing,  she  exercised.  She  deduced 


WHERE  THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  209 

this  from  the  fact  that  he  had  remarked  parenthetically 
that  he  was  glad  to  have  seen  the  abstract,  but  that  upon 
his  return  to  Marston,  he  would  go  to  Graftenburg  where 
he  would  examine  the  record  itself. 

Then  too  he  gave  her  a  warning. 

"  Let  me  advise  you,  Miss  St.  Pierre,  to  say  nothing  to 
your  friends  about  this  supposed  defect  in  the  title  of  the 
property."  As  she  had  confided  so  readily  in  him  he 
thought  her  nature  was  effusive,  and  that  she  needed  a 
check.  "That  would  be  very  impolitic,  for  if  the  title 
should  prove  to  be  perfect,  the  value  of  the  property 
would  be  injured  by  the  doubt  in  the  minds  of  unprofes 
sional  people.  It  is  very  difficult  to  eradicate  that  kind 
of  impression." 

"  Oh,  I  will  not.  I  have  not  mentioned  the  matter  to 
any  one  but  you." 

There  was  a  convincing  earnestness  in  her  eyes  as  she 
raised  them.  Her  child-like  reliance  upon  an  utter 
stranger  was  very  beguiling.  Alas,  for  this  wise  young 
counsellor ! 

He  drifted  back  presently  to  his  disquisition,  and  the 
moonlight  shimmered  about  him,  and  the  bird's  melancholy 
monody  rose  fitfully  from  the  deep  shadows  of  the  forest, 
and  in  the  pauses  they  could  hear  the  river  flow,  and  when 
his  eyes  met  the  girl's,  for  all  his  learning,  they  lingered. 

And  now  there  was  a  stir  within ;  the  elders  were  com 
ing  out  upon  the  veranda,  and  all  too  soon  the  professional 
consultation  was  ended. 

When  the  young  man  returned  to  Marston,  he  men 
tioned  rather  pridefully  to  his  father  that  during  his 
absence  he  had  had  some  business  put  into  his  hands, 
involving  real  estate  in  Graftenburg,  which  would  require 
him  to  go  to  that  city  shortly  for  the  purpose  of  examin* 
ing  the  records. 


210  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  gratified  by 
this  confirmation  of  his  theory  that  if  you  don't  help  a 
young  lawyer  too  much,  he  will  help  himself.  "  I  'm  glad 
of  it.  Don't  grudge  time  and  attention.  Real  estate  is  a 
very  different  style  of  business  from  that  cause  cel&bre  of 
yours  —  old  Krieger  and  his  two  glandered  mules." 

His  son  laughed.  "  I  dare  say  old  Krieger's  mules  were 
as  important  to  him  as  the  real  estate  is  to  this  client." 

"  All  right  —  if  you  are  disposed  to  hang  your  legal 
laurels  on  the  long  ears  of  those  interesting  animals,  I 
have  only  to  say  —  prosperity  attend  you,"  retorted  the 
old  gentleman,  waggishly. 

A  few  days  later  the  young  man  did  run  down  to 
Graftenburg,  but  he  proceeded  by  indirection,  setting  out 
for  that  city  vid  the  Chattalla  branch  railroad,  which  in 
the  nature  of  things,  leads  no  further  than  Chattalla. 
He  spent  much  time  during  the  early  part  of  his  sojourn, 
in  transitu  between  the  hotel  of  the  village  and  Mrs. 
Percy's  place.  His  constant  requisition  of  a  certain  swift 
trotter  from  the  principal  livery  stable  awakened  in  its 
proprietor  a  great  admiration  of  his  acumen  in  horseflesh, 
supplemented  by  no  little  curiosity  and  speculation. 

"  It 's  my  belief,"  he  said,  as  a  result  of  much  cogitation, 
"  that  that  young  chap  —  and  he  knows  a  good  horse 
when  he  sees  him  —  is  courtin'  somebody  in  this  neigh 
borhood." 

He  looked  after  the  rapidly  revolving  wheels  that  bore 
his  patron  away,  and  shook  his  head  sagely. 

Xot  only  in  the  village  did  Meredith's  conduct  pro 
voke  comment. 

"It  strikes  me,"  said  Mrs.  Percy,  privately  to  her 
mother,  "  that  Mr.  Meredith's  deficiency  in  the  matter  of 
geography  is  positively  painful.  The  poor  young  man 
seems  utterly  ignorant  that  Chattalla  is  not  on  the  direct 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  211 

road  between  Marston  and  Graftenburg.     He  told  me  last 
evening  that  lie  had  only  stopped  on  his  way !  " 

She  found  little  difficulty  in  persuading  him  to  subject 
himself  no  longer  to  the  discomforts  of  the  little  hotel  in 
the  village,  and  after  this  he  was  established  in  Horace 
Percy's  room  on  very  much  the  footing  of  a  son  of  the 
house,  and  with  all  his  friend's  effects  at  command  —  his 
books  to  read,  his  horse  to  ride,  his  boat  to  row.  Some 
concession,  however,  was  made  to  the  absent.  Meredith 
beguiled  half  an  hour  of  his  leisure  one  day  by  writing  to 
Horace,  describing  the  usurpation  of  his  prerogatives,  and 
politely  inviting  him  to  remain  in  New  Orleans. 

The  elders  of  the  household  were  readily  propitiated. 
Mrs.  Lorent  found  the  guest,  in  her  platitudinarian  phrase, 
•'  a  very  worthy  young  man."  Mrs.  Percy  often  sighed  and 
sadly  shook  her  bedecked  head,  protesting  that  she  would 
tell  Horace  what  an  example  his  friend  was.  And  old  Mr 
Lorent,  her  father,  who  was  a  mere  wreck  physically,  but 
with  political  opinions  as  fresh  and  vigorous  as  when  he 
cast  his  first  vote  in  1820,  declared  that  he  had  not  seen 
the  young  fellow's  equal  for  fifty  years,  and  that  his 
views  on  specie  payment  would  have  graced  the  days  of 
"Old  Bullion." 

All  this  praise  did  not  tend  to  impair  the  position  he 
held  in  Antoinette's  esteem,.  It  fact  it  only  served  to 
confirm  her  own  opinion. 

They  were  often  together,  wandering  through  the 
grounds  or  along  the  bank  of  the  river,  while  the  warm 
vernal  breeze  stirred  the  trees,  and  the  sunshine  dripped, 
like  some  golden  fluid,  from  one  budding  bough  to  an 
other.  The  air  tasted  like  wine.  Wings  were  sweeping 
across  the  sky  —  and  it  was  blue  !  Oh,  perfect  spring- 
days  sub  tegmine  fagi!  Oh,  love  and  youth!  Oh, 
Damon,  no  longer  playing  on  an  oaten  pipe,  which  is 


212  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT 

comparatively  meaningless,  but  with  case-learning  and 
precedent,  with  subtle  distinctions  and  clever  deductions, 
Oh,  modern  shepherd,  whose  silly  sheep  are  sublimated  in 
learned  parchments!  Oh,  dear  delights  of  seisin  and 
disseisin,  made  plain  as  might  be  to  pretty  Msa,  who  no 
longer  cruelly  disdains  as  of  yore  but  is  reduced  to  admi 
ration  of  science,  of  its  erudite  professor,  of  the  great 
future  stretching  out  before  him.  And,  oh,  that  great 
future !  —  that  infinite  possibility  which  stretches  before 
every  young  man.  How  is  it  that,  when  youth  goes,  it 
goes  too  ?  And  then  your  great  future  lies  in  your  past. 
Your  world  has  flattened  out  a  little ;  the  holy  pool  is 
stagnant,  for  the  wing  of  your  aspiration  troubles  the 
waters  only  once  in  a  lifetime,  and  only  once  can  you  heal 
your  sorrows  and  consecrate  your  purposes.  After  that 
you  become  critical  —  you  measure  your  powers  —  you 
doubt — your  hands  fall.  Then  stock  the  holy  pool  with 
fish,  my  friend,  and  get  your  living  out  of  it. 

And  yet  this  modern  Damon  had  his  woes  and,  perhaps 
for  the  lack  of  the  oaten  pipe,  they  were  silent.  Only 
within  himself  he  argued  dextrously  whether  it  would  be 
becoming  to  notify  Nisa  that  she  had  acquired  a  new  title 
—  an  indefeasible  title  to  his  heart  —  and  her  rights  could 
never  be  barred  by  any  statute  of  limitations  whatever. 
But  he  had  known  her  so  short  a  time  —  only  two  weeks 
and  a  half.  Still,  he  submitted,  he  had  seen  so  much  of 
her  —  their  knowledge  of  each  other  would  amount  to  full 
six  months  of  ordinary  acquaintance,  prosecuted  through 
a  call  now  and  then,  and  an  occasional  waltz  at  a  German. 
On  the  other  hand,  such  an  avowal  so  soon  after  their  first 
meeting  might  seem  to  her  an  impertinence.  He  ran  over 
in  his  mind  all  the  experience  of  his  friends  that  had  come 
to  his  knowledge  —  of  those  who  were  married,  those  who 
were  engaged,  and  those  who  had  ever  sought  to  be.  He, 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

BO  ready  with  authorities,  could  not  now  cite  one  case  in 
point  —  could  not  quote  one  dictum  bearing  even  remotely 
on  the  subject.  There  was  no  precedent  whatever — it 
would  be  a  very  informal  proceeding.  It  was  doubtless 
better  to  have  all  the  pleadings  in  due  form. 

This  man  of  words,  who  needed  so  few  now,  was  de 
pressed  in  spirit  and  rather  wistful  on  the  day  preceding 
his  departure  for  Graftenburg. 

"  This  time  to-morrow  I  shall  not  be  with  you  when  you 
come  out  to  look  at  the  sunset,"  he  said,  as  they  stood  to 
gether  on  the  front  veranda.  "  I  shall  see  it  from  the  car 
windows,  —  it  will  be  a  great  red  and  yellow  daub  skurry- 
ing  by,  flecked  with  cinders  and  smirched  with  smoke. 
And  the  fields  of  winter  wheat  —  all  of  a  crude  green  — 
will  reel  out  from  the  woods  somewhere,  and  the  trees  will 
go  staggering  about  the  landscape,  and  all  nature  will 
seem  a  coarse,  drunken  thing.  And  I  shall  realize  that  I 
am  a  man  of  towns  and  artificial  life,  and  such  as  that  is 
not  for  me."  He  pointed  with  Horace  Percy's  light  rid 
ing  whip  at  the  calm  and  gracious  splendor  of  the  western 
skies,  and  then  he  fell  to  flicking  his  boots. 

As  if  he  cared  for  the  sunset  except  that  she  looked 
at  it! 

The  clouds  were  still  aflame ;  long  lines  of  crimson  light 
flashed  down  the  river  alternating  with  its  steely  gleam ; 
the  brown  boles  of  the  trees  on  the  opposite  bank  could 
still  be  distinguished.  But  the  moonrise  had  followed 
hard  upon  the  setting  of  the  sun  and  a  vagueness  was 
coming  into  this  tender  harmony  of  coloring  —  not  jar 
ringly,  but  slipping  through  it  with  all  soft  and  sweet 
accord. 

"  I'll  write  to  you  from  Graftenburg  about  that  matter 
of  the  record,"  he  said  presently,  brightening  with  the 
thought. 


214  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  she  murmured. 

"  And  when  I  next  come  to  Chattalla  we  '11  talk  it  all 
over  again." 

There  was  certainly  nothing  more  to  talk  over,  and  he 
had  no  further  business  at  Chattalla,  but  as  he  stood  silent 
for  a  moment  he  was  seriously  questioning  how  soon  — 
how  very  soon  —  could  he  play  truant  to  his  other  engage 
ments. 

"  Possibly  on  the  —  no,  certainly  on  the  28th  of  June  I 
shall  be  here  again." 

And  on  this  understanding  they  separated. 

"  Temple ! "  exclaimed  old  Mr.  Meredith,  tartly,  as  his 
son  came  suddenly  into  the  office  one  day,  "  you  stayed 
in  Graftenburg  long  enough  to  commit  the  records  to 
memory.  I  was  afraid  I  should  be  obliged  to  send  Bryant 
to  New  York  in  your  place.  Not  that  you  know  any 
more  law  than  he  does,"  he  added  disparagingly.  "  God 
knows  it 's  Hobson's  choice ! " 

And  so  Temple  Meredith  went  to  New  York  on  busi 
ness  for  his  father. 

It  was  only  a  short  time  after  his  departure  that  An 
toinette  received  from  a  notable  and  highly  reputable  firm 
of  lawyers  in  Graftenburg  a  letter  which  ran  thus :  — 

MADAM  :  —  We  write  to  inform  you  that  in  accordance  with 
the  instructions  of  our  client,  Mr.  John  D.  Fortescue,  we  will 
at  an  early  day  bring  suit  for  the  recovery  of  the  property  in 
this  city  now  held  by  you  under  color  of  title  by  the  will  of  the 
late  Mrs.  Perrier. 

Mr.  Fortescue  directs  us  to  say  that  he  will  resort  to  this 
course  with  great  reluctance ;  rather  than  do  so  he  would  make 
a  liberal  settlement  with  you.  If,  after  consideration  of  the 
matter,  you  are  disposed  to  offer  any  terms,  we  shall  be  happy 
to  submit  them  to  Mr.  Fortescue. 

Very  respectfully  yours, 

WYNDHAM  &  ORRIS. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  215 

She  read  and  re-read  this  letter,  and  then  thought  it 
over  in  much  perturbation.  That  singular  circumstance 
—  the  discovery  of  the  locket  in  an  empty  grave  —  made 
it  seem  as  if  Fortescue  had  strangely  come  from  the  dead 
to  dispossess  her.  Although  Meredith  had  assured  her 
that  she  had  no  positive  proof  of  his  death,  the  belief  had 
j  Deviously  become  so  rooted  in  her  mind  that  it  was  dif 
ficult  to  eradicate  it.  She  determined  that  she  would 
be  reasonable  now  and  harbor  no  more  fantasies.  She 
would  see  things  as  they  really  were,  not  distorted, 
through  a  childish  love  of  mystery.  She  began  to  think 
that  from  the  first  she  had  unjustly  suspected  Mr.  Travis's 
motives;  for  this  threatened  attack  upon  the  property 
was  a  fulfilment  of  his  warnings.  The  only  apparent 
discrepancy  —  the  length  of  time  which  had  elapsed 
since  the  determination  of  the  estate  per  autre  vie  — 
could  probably  be  explained  when  Fortescue's  lawyers 
should  confer  with  hers ;  perhaps  he  had  been  under  one 
of  those  disabilities  of  which  Temple  Meredith  had 
spoken,  and  had  thus  escaped  the  bar  that  would  other 
wise  prevent  him  from  recovering  the  property. 

Yet  even  while  resolving  to  banish  from  her  mind  her 
fantastic  suspicions,  she  was  vaguely  conscious  of  a  plot 
in  the  air,  and,  struggle  as  she  might,  this  vague  con 
sciousness  hampered  the  decision  she  sought  to  base  on 
the  bare  facts  before  her,  and  still  influenced  her  action. 
She  did  not  answer  the  lawyer's  letter.  She  inclosed  it 
to  Temple  Meredith,  supposing  that  he  was  still  in  Mars- 
ton,  with  a  request  that  he  would  give  it  his  attention 
and  obtain  Mr.  Fortescue's  present  address,  in  order  that 
the  locket  might  be  returned.  Her  instinct  was  to  keep 
them  all  at  a  distance ;  she  would  treat  with  them  only 
through  Meredith. 

When  this  letter  arrived  in  Marston,  it  was  handed  to 


210  WHERE   THE   BATTLE    WAS   FOUGHT. 

his  father  with  a  number  of  others.  "  Hey !  What 's  that 
—  Temple's  mail  ?  "  the  old  gentleman  asked,  as  he  thrust 
his  pen  behind  his  ear. 

A  couple  of  wedding  cards  fell  upon  the  floor  from  one  of 
the  open  envelopes  in  his  hand.  He  stooped  with  difficulty 
to  regain  them,  and  when  he  had  risen  to  his  portly  per 
pendicular,  he  was  red  in  the  face  and  testy  in  temper. 

"  Weddings,  and  parties,  and  such  follies !  "  he  ejacu 
lated  scornfully ;  for  he  had  come  to  think  all  was  folly 
that  did  not  tend  to  litigation  or  issue  therefrom.  "  No 
way  for  a  young  man  to  get  on.  Wasting  time ;  fritter, 
fritter  "  — 

As  he  shuffled  the  envelopes,  he  paused  to  look  atten 
tively  at  the  blurred  and  unintelligible  postmark  of  An 
toinette's  letter,  from  which  the  stamp  had  chanced  to  be 
lost.  He  drew  his  own  inference  from  its  delicate  exte 
rior  and  graceful,  feminine  chirography,  and  righteously 
separated  it  from  those  envelopes  of  formidable  aspect 
which  unmistakably  indicated  business  correspondence. 
These  he  promptly  forwarded  to  his  son,  while  An 
toinette's  letter  was  relegated  to  a  place  among  the  wed 
ding  cards  and  flimsy  little  notes  treating  of  impending 
Germans  and  private  theatricals. 

"I'll  keep  these  invitations  and  such  trash  till  he 
comes ;  he  '11  be  here  in  a  week.  He  won't  want  to  be 
bothered  with  them  now,  for  they  can't  do  him  any  good 
there,  —  nor  anywhere  else." 

He  placed  them  methodically  together,  and  pigeon 
holed  them  in  the  darkest  corner  of  his  desk,  to  await 
Temple's  return. 

It  was  long  delayed  by  unforeseen  complications  of  the 
business  which  had  carried  him  to  New  York,  and  old  Mr. 
Meredith,  forwarding  from  tune  to  time  his  son's  corres 
pondence,  had  utterly  forgotten  the  little  notes  in  his  desk. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  217 

Antoinette,  in  great  surprise,  waited  vainly  for  an  an- 
ewer.  Twice,  during  the  weeks  that  ensued,  she  began 
to  write  to  Meredith  again ;  twice  she  burned  her  letter, 
fearful,  in  her  inopportune  caution,  that  her  interference 
would  work  mischief,  that  her  impatience  might  harry 
him  into  precipitate  and  thoughtless  action.  She  was 
checked,  too,  by  a  sense  of  something  unbecoming  in  her 
persistence ;  it  might  seem  as  if  she  had  scant  confidence 
in  his  judgment,  and  desired  to  call  him  to  account,  to 
dictate  and  superintend  him  in  the  matter.  And  surely 
he  knew  best,  she  argued,  whether  the  delay  was  injurious 
or  an  advantage.  She  had  committed  everything  to  his 
guidance,  and  it  was  for  him  to  act,  not  her.  In  some 
indignation  she  thought  that  he  might  have  sent  her 
a  line  to  allay  her  anxiety ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
could  hardly  be  expected  to  realize  how  anxious  she  was. 
He  might  be  making  investigations  important  to  her  in 
terests,  and  wished  to  reply  only  when  he  had  reached  a 
decision,  or  had  something  definite  to  say.  She  had  be 
come  sharply  conscious  of  her  inexperience  in  the  ways 
of  the  world,  and  admitted  to  consideration  the  possibil 
ity  that  men  of  business  might  be  more  deliberate  in 
matters  of  importance  than  she  had  supposed. 

She  sought  to  divert  her  mind  as  much  as  possible  from 
this  perplexing  absorption,  and  to  await  patiently  further 
developments ;  but  this  was  difficult  in  the  dull  routine  of 
country  life.  After  she  had  returned  to  General  Vaync's 
plantation,  however,  more  frivolous  interests  asserted  a 
claim  to  her  attention.  She  found  that  great  events 
were  impending ;  the  whole  household  was  in  a  state  of 
gratified  expectancy ;  the  boys  were  noisy  and  hilarious ; 
there  was  festivity  intimated  in  the  very  waving  of  Mrs. 
Kirby's  curls;  only  Marcia  seemed  a  little  languid,  and 
somehow  unaccountably  and  constantly  disappointed. 


218  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

"We  are  getting  ready,  my  dear,  for  Thursday,  the 
ninth  —  Edgar's  birthday,"  said  Mrs.  Kirby.  "  Marcia 
always  lets  him  have  his  own  way  on  that  day ;  yes,  and 
he  desires  to  give  a  fishing  party.  Lucky,  was  n't  it,"  she 
added,  with  an  expression  of  deep  slyness,  "  that  he  had 
a  whim  to  invite  some  grown  people,  too  ?  —  makes  it  so 
much  more  pleasant  for  us,  you  know." 

Then  she  turtied  beamingly  to  her  brother. 

"  And  you  ought,  Francis,  to  invite  formally  all  whom 
Edgar  has  asked.  Suppose  you  write  the  notes  now. 
Yes;  no  time  like  the  present." 

General  Yayne  obediently  seated  himself,  and,  pen  in 
hand,  awaited  further  instructions. 

"Let  me  see,"  continued  the  old  lady,  meditatively, 
"there  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ridgeway,  and  their  grand 
children  —  don't  forget  the  children." 

General  Vayne's  pen,  with  splutter  and  splash,  flour 
ished  across  the  page,  and  the  Ridgeways  were  invited  in 
aH  due  form. 

"And  Captain  Estwicke,"  lined  out  Mrs.  Kirby,  who 
knew  nothing  of  the  disagreement. 

General  Yayne's  pen  paused  in  mid-air.  To  be  sure, 
he  disliked  —  nay,  he  heartily  detested  —  Estwicke,  and 
desired  no  further  intercourse  with  him.  But  in  a  man 
ner  he  had  been  already  asked,  and  the  "  sacred  laws  of 
hospitality"  were  involved  in  so  reiterating  the  invitation 
that  it  would  be  possible  for  him  to  accept  or  reiuse,  at 
his  own  pleasure. 

Splutter,  scrawl,  splash  once  more. 

There  is  an  infinite  sarcasm  in  a  double-faced  fact. 
It  is  perhaps  an  apt  illustration  of  this  that  Estwicke 
should  receive  a  note,  which  left  General  Vayne  in 
this  mood,  as  a  covert  apology;  that  he  should  flinch 
under  its  supposed  generosity;  that  he  should  scourge 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  219 

oimself,  as  having  grossly  refused  to  concede  aught  to  t,he 
heat  of  partisanship,  when  the  character  of  a  man's  friend 
was  at  stake  and  his  orphans  in  danger  of  beggary ;  that 
he  should  upbraid  himself  as  a  churl,  who  would  take  no 
cognizance  of  the  gracious  cordiality  and  kindliness  he 
had  enjoyed  until  it  was  extended  again. 

In  this  propitiatory  and  humble  frame  of  mind,  un 
characteristic  enough,  he,  too,  was  eagerly  expectant  of 
the  great  day. 

While  all  these  unconscious  factors  in  his  schemes  were 
thus  giving  themselves  up  to  the  anticipation  of  frivolous 
diversion,  Maurice  Brennett  was  like  a  worm  in  the  fire. 
He  could  not  imagine  why  Fortescue's  lawyers  should 
have  heard  nothing  whatever  from  Miss  St.  Pierre  in 
response  to  their  effort  to  promote  a  settlement.  As  day 
after  day  passed  without  result,  he  at  length  felt  it  neces 
sary  to  take  a  hand  in  the  game  himself. 

Some  time  earlier  than  this,  Fortescue  had  concluded 
to  go  to  Tennessee,  for  the  purpose  of  a  more  compre 
hensive  consultation  with  his  lawyers  than  could  be  read 
ily  compassed  by  correspondence.  Brennett  had  urged 
this  plan,  and  when  at  last  it  was  adopted,  he  told  Travis 
that  he  intended  to  accompany  Fortescue. 

"  Ten  to  one,"  he  said,  "  the  fellow  won't  see  the  law 
yers  at  all,  unless  there  is  somebody  along  to  keep  him 
up  to  the  mark.  He  will  be  gambling  and  drinking,  and 
forget  why  he  went  there  at  all." 

When  Travis  stopped  in  Graftenburg,  on  his  way  to 
the  Louisville  races,  he  was  greatly  dismayed  to  learn 
from  Brennett  that  some  ill-feeling  had  here  been  de 
veloped  between  him  and  Fortescue.  Agitated  by  the 
prospect  of  internal  dissension  at  such  a  crisis,  Travis 
reproached  Brennett  with  this  patent  imprudence. 

u  For  the  sake,"  he  said,  "  of  a  pitiful  little  three  thou- 


220  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

Band  dollars,"  —  he  always  spoke  contemptuously  of  com- 
paratively  small  sums  of  money,  and  with  bated  breath 
and  deep  respect  of  large,  —  "for  the  sake  of  a  pitiful 
little  three  thousand  dollars  you  jeopardize  all  our 
chances.  If  you  incense  that  fellow  against  you,  he  may 
ruin  our  prospects  yet ;  he  may  go  back  on  our  contract, 
and  bring  suit  for  the  Graftenburg  property  on  his  own 
hook.  We  couldn't  chirp  if  he  should,  because  out 
agreement  is  champertous,  you  know.  Why  did  you 
lend  him  money  if  you  did  n't  expect  to  stand  to  lose  ?  " 

For  Brennett,  it  seemed,  had  loaned  Fortescue  three 
thousand  dollars,  dividing  the  debt  for  the  sake  of  a  more 
speedy  collection,  and  taking  six  notes  for  five  hundred 
dollars  each,  thus  bringing  it  within  the  expeditious  juris 
diction  of  a  justice  of  the  peace.  When  they  fell  due, 
and  the  money  was  not  forthcoming,  there  were  some  hot 
words  about  the  matter.  Brennett  —  in  a  ridiculous  pet, 
as  it  seemed  to  Travis,  for  there  was  nothing  to  be 
gained — sued,  got  judgment,  issued  executions,  which 
were  levied  upon  Fortescue's  interest  in  the  Graftenburg 
property,  and,  until  the  next  term  of  the  circuit  court, 
could  proceed  no  further. 

"  Perhaps  I  was  wrong,"  Brennett  admitted.  "  Still,  I 
have  thought  of  a  way  to  utilize  the  affair." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  how,"  said  Travis,  "  if  it  were 
only  for  curiosity." 

"  Well,"  said  Brennett,  meditatively,  "  I  am  going  up 
there  in  the  country  with  Percy.  I  should  like  to  get 
the  machinery  of  this  proposed  compromise  into  running 
order,  and,  if  I  could  discover  what  the  hitch  is  there,  I 
might  start  the  rest.  I  may  meet  Miss  St.  Pierre.  If 
I  tell  her  that  I  am  a  creditor  of  Fortescue's,  and  have 
therefore  a  personal  interest  in  promoting  a  settlement,  it 
might  be  admissible  forme  to  talk  the  matter  over  with 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  221 

her.  I  could  find  out  why  she  makes  no  move  in  the 
affair.  I  might  be  able  to  facilitate  —  even  to  effect  a 
compromise." 

"  That 's  a  first-rate  idea,  Brennett.  Such  a  head  for 
expedients  as  you  have  !  But  it  is  soft  in  places.  Lend 
ing  money  to  Fortescue  —  of  all  the  men  in  the  world ! 
And  I  never  heard  before  of  your  lending  money." 

It  might  not  have  occurred  to  a  more  clever  brain  than 
Travis's  that  there  was  literally  no  "  value  received  "  for 
these  notes  that  John  Fortescue  gave  to  Maurice  Brennett 
only  two  weeks  ago,  but  dated  thirty  days  earlier,  on 
which  a  justice  of  the  peace  in  Graftenburg  solemnly 
rendered  judgment,  and  executions  were  issued  and 
levied. 

Still  Travis  harbored  some  vague  uneasiness. 

"Has  Fortescue  started  back  to  New  Orleans?"  ho 
asked. 

"  He  is  there  by  this  time,"  replied  Brennett. 

u  Look  here,  Brennett,  we  ought  to  keep  on  that  fel 
low's  blind  side.  Was  he  friendly  with  you  when  he  set 
out?" 

"  Oh,  friendly  enough,"  rejoined  Brennett,  carelessly. 

Brennett's  "  head  for  expedients  "  presently  evolved  the 
idea  that  it  might  be  productive  of  good  results  to  open 
a  correspondence  with  Miss  St.  Pierre  before  a  personal 
interview.  It  would  be  a  less  awkward  method  of  intro 
ducing  the  subject  than  by  word  of  mouth.  His  letter 
simply  stated  the  fact  that  he  held  judgments  against  Mr. 
Fortescue  for  the  sum  of  three  thousand  dollars,  and  had 
levied  executions  upon  his  interest  in  the  Graftenburg 
property  now  in  her  possession.  Hearing,  however,  that 
a  negotiation  for  a  settlement  between  her  and  Mr. 
Fortescue  was  pending,  he  wrote  to  notify  her  that  he 
claimed  payment  out  of  any  fund  which  in  such  settlement 


222  WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

aiight  become  due  to  Mr.  Fortescue  and  with  the  view  of 
avoiding  further  litigation. 

This  letter  occasioned  Antoinette  far  less  disquietude 
than  the  one  from  the  lawyers.  She  was  only  annoyed 
that  Mr.  Fortescue's  creditors  should  be  writing  to  her. 
She  did  not  reply,  for  she  did  not  know  how  much,  or  how 
little,  or  what  it  would  be  judicious  to  say.  She  merely 
made  a  mental  note  of  the  name  signed  and  laid  the  letter 
aside  to  be  enclosed  to  Temple  Meredith,  when  she  should 
have  received  a  response  to  her  former  communication 
which  she  expected  by  every  mail. 

And  still  it  did  not  come,  and  Maurice  Brennett's  letter 
continued  unanswered. 

He  could  not  sufficiently  congratulate  himself  that  his 
plans  were  complete  for  an  invasion  of  the  enemy's 
country. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

sky  looked  down  so  tenderly,  so  tenderly.  And 
the  haunted  thickets  were  all  a-bloom.  Gentle 
grasses  had  crept  to  the  verge  of  the  open,  empty  graves, 
and  trailing  through  them  was  the  mystic  purple  passion 
flower.  Delicately  tinted  wild  roses  had  clambered  into 
the  funereal  cedar,  hiding  its  sorrow  with  the  splendors  of 
a  new  spring.  All  along  the  green  perspective  the  elder 
shook  out  its  snowy  banners. 

Restful  places  were  these  —  where  only  the  unquiet 
ghosts  were  wont  to  walk.  Here  the  dove  was  on  her 
nest.  The  mocking-bird's  melody  thrilled  through  the 
solitude.  All  the  timid  and  helpless  wild  things  found 
their  refuge  among  the  phantoms;  there  were  rabbits, 
and  squirrels,  and  quail.  No  fear  of  man  in  these  se 
questered  spots  unbroken  by  the  ploughshare  still,  un 
trodden  by  mortal  foot. 

A  luxuriant  growth  of  bear-grass  fringed  the  banks  of 
tae  river  as  it  flowed  through  the  battle-field.  The  re 
flection  of  the  tall,  stately  stems,  hung  about  with  myriads 
of  snowy  bell-like  blossoms,  embellished  the  margin  of  the 
bright  water  for  miles.  And  the  water  was  very  bright 
to-day  —  full  of  concentric  silver  circlets,  and  golden 
sunshine,  and  a  blue  sky  brought  down  to  earth  and 
made  sweetly  familiar.  It  seemed  that  the  two  skiffs, 
freighted  with  Edgar's  birthday  guests,  could  but  glide 
swiftly  through  so  limpid  a  medium,  and  they  skimmed 

223 


224  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

along  as  if  propelling  themselves  with  their  unfeathered 
wings. 

"  We  shall  meet  Mr.  Percy  at  the  Coteatoy  Bluffs,  — 
Horace  Percy,"  said  Mrs.  Kirby  with  animation.  "He 
reached  Chattalla  yesterday  —  yes  —  in  the  afternoon. 
He  took  great  pains,"  she  continued,  laughing  slyly,  "  to 
let  us  know  he  had  returned.  He  drove  over  last  evening 

—  yes  —  he  said  he  was  fishing  for  an  invitation  to  fish." 
She  waved   her   curls   and   smiled   blandly.     "  Like  a 

match-making  mother,"  thought  Estwicke  furiously. 

With  jealous  quickness  he  turned  his  eyes  on  Marcia. 
No  rush  of  emotion  had  sent  the  color  to  her  cheeks  now 

—  only  the  faintly  roseate  tinge,  that  dwelt  there  when 
her  heart  was  calm,  merged  delicately  and  imperceptibly 
into  the  warm  whiteness  of  her  brow  and  throat.     She 
had  thrown  off  her  hat.     The  sunbeams  mingled  with  that 
perennial  golden  glinting  in  her  brown  hair.     The  pliant 
grace   of  her  figure  embellished  the  simple  lawn  dress 
which  she  wore,  such  as  she  always  wore  these  warm  days, 

—  it  was  pure  white,  with  a  dainty  lace-like  pattern  traced 
.ipon  it  in  black  stripes ;  one  dress  differed  from  another 
only  in  the  arrangement  of  many  fluted  ruffles,  that  gave 
it  a  petalled  appearance  — "  double,"  as  the  gardeners  say ; 
it  was  like  a  flower,  moreover,  in  its  exquisite  freshness 

—  it   seemed   to   Estwicke   to   have   bloomed   only   this 
morning. 

"  He  was  a  very  successful  angler,"  said  Mrs.  Kirby,  — 
"  caught  two  invitations,  in  fact.  He  tells  us  that  he  has 
a  friend  staying  with  him  —  a  Mr.  Brennett  —  and  that  he 
is  presumptuous  enough  to  hope  that  together  they  can 
fill  the  gap  made  by  my  brother's  absence.  Yes,  my 
brother  was  called  to  Marston  on  business  —  very  sud 
denly  —  will  be  gone  several  weeks  —  too  bad  —  too  bad ! " 

Here   and  there,  as  they  rowed,  they  could  catch  a 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  225 

glimpse  of  the  battle-field  —  the  long  lines  of  fortifica 
tions  rising  in  billowy  green  sweeps  from  the  level  ex 
panse.  In  mid-stream  were  the  stone  piers  of  the  old 
turnpike  bridge.  As  the  boat  was  passing,  Estwicke 
glanced  up  and  up  the  piles  of  masonry,  austere  and 
sternly  suggestive,  despite  the  soft  matutinal  influences ; 
despite  the  mosses  and  vines  that  come  always  with  their 
clinging  grace  to  dull  the  sharp  edges  of  ruin;  despite  a 
nest  in  a  niche  and  a  brooding  bird. 

Well,  the  sentries  tramped  over  this  water  once  !  Only 
the  sunshine  guards  the  wreck  of  a  bridge  now.  And 
here  blood  was  shed.  There  were  flames  in  the  night  to 
"over  a  mad  retreat  and  impede  a  swift  and  fierce  pur 
suit.  And  now  only  Marcia's  joyous  laughter,  and  the 
fresh,  sweet  voices  of  the  children  in  the  v.  ther  skiff,  and 
the  melodious  dip  of  oars,  and  the  restful  peace  of  the 
springtide.  And  all  that  is  gone ;  is  forgotten.  And 
oetter  so !  A  moment  more  and  the  ruined  piers  wer-e 
behind  them. 

And  now  they  were  among  the  shadows;  they  had 
reached  the  forests  at  last,  and  a  bend  in  the  river  brought 
them  suddenly  in  sight  of  the  Coteatoy  Bluffs  and  of  a 
skiff  drifting  in  the  deep  glooms  below.  Brennett,  idly 
dipping  his  oars  now  and  then,  was  cynically  watching 
Percy,  who  was  standing,  his  dark  eyes  turned  eagerly 
upon  the  approaching  boats,  his  fresh  complexion  all  the 
fresher  for  a  sudden  accession  of  color,  his  delicate  black 
mustache  scarcely  hiding  a  quiver  of  excitement  on  his 
lips.  His  white  linen  suit  rendered  his  tall,  lithe  figure 
and  every  gesture,  as  he  fanned  himself  with  his  hat,  very 
distinct  upon  the  olive  green  and  brownish  shadows  about 
him,  and  instantly  the  children  in  the  nearest  skiff  set  up 
a  shrill  acclaim  of  recognition  and  salutation.  Mrs.  Kirby 
waved  her  curls  and  nodded  benignly  to  him.  Marcia 


226  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

was  blushing  and  smiling.  Mrs.  Ridgeway  flourished  her 
handkerchief. 

"  Why,  God  bless  me,"  spluttered  old  Mr.  Ridgeway, 
"  how  well  the  boy  is  looking." 

Estwicke  suddenly  felt  alien  —  friendless.  This  man 
was  coming  back  among  people  who  had  known  him 
from  his  infancy ;  they  all  called  him  "  Horace."  His 
intimacy  with  them  had  its  root  in  habitudes  that  dated 
back  two  generations.  They  all  liked  him,  and  indeed 
it  would  be  strange  if  a  dull  old  stock  of  a  country  neigh 
borhood,  such  as  this,  were  insensible  of  the  charm  of  a 
gay,  vivacious  young  worldling  grafted  upon  it,  brilliant 
with  foreign  influences,  and  vigorous  with  a  new  growth. 
His  careful  art  in  conserving  his  popularity  had  been 
observed  onh  sufficiently  to  give  rise  to  the  local  report 
that  he  had  political  aspirations,  and  to  lead  to  harmless 
solicitations  from  "  many  voters."  He  fought  shy  of  these, 
gratified,  but  unambitious  of  the  heavy  cares  of  legisla 
tion  ;  his  coyness  was  held  as  proof  of  precocious  states- 
manship,  of  latent  designs  awaiting  development,  and  gave 
him  the  reputation  of  being  "  deep." 

It  did  not  escape  Estwicke's  fierce  scrutiny  that  when  the 
newcomers  had  run  their  boat  close  alongside,  Percy's 
notice  of  the  other  members  of  the  party  was  the  merest 
mechanical  courtesy,  and  his  eyes  were  loath  to  turn  away 
from  Marcia's  face.  But  the  meeting  involved  the  pro 
saic  necessity  of  introducing  his  friend,  and  it  followed 
hard  upon  this  moment  of  sentimental  apotheosis. 

That  moment  had  its  peculiar  interest  for  others. 
Maurice  Brennett  fixed  his  piercing  eyes  upon  Miss 
Vayne  with  questioning  intentness,  until  her  name  was 
pronounced,  when  it  died  out  as  suddenly  as  it  had  sprung 
up.  But  he  looked  hard  at  Miss  St.  Pierre  as  he  was 
presented  to  her,  and  now  his  attention  did  not  flag.  It 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  227 

struck  Estwicke's  whimsical  imagination  with  a  fleeting 
wonder  that  a  hawk  could  bow  in  so  conventional  a  man 
ner  and  look  so  like  a  gentleman.  For  he  had  at  once 
recognized  the  man,  and  that  strong  likeness  to  the 
feathered  rascal  which  he  had  first  observed  over  the 
card-table  in  Meredith's  room.  Brennett,  too,  recognized 
him,  but  in  a  cursory  and  superficial  manner  that  hardly 
impinged  for  an  instant  upon  his  deeper  absorption. 

"  May  I  beg  a  place  in  your  boat  for  Mr.  Brennett  ? " 
said  Percy,  claiming  Mrs.  Kirby's  indulgence.  "I  am 
sure  it  would  be  much  more  agreeable  for  him  there." 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Kirby,  "  and  you  must  come 
too." 

"  Both  would  be  too  heavy  in  addition  to  your  party. 
I  think  I  had  better  stay  at  anchor  here." 

"  I  hope  that  through  your  agency  Chattalla  has  pro 
duced  a  fine  impression  on  Mr.  Brennett  —  yes — im 
pressed  him,"  said  Mrs.  Kirby,  beaming  out  of  her  old 
black  bonnet. 

"  Oh,  I  have  done  my  duty  as  cicerone.  I  have  been 
trying  all  the  morning  to  find  a  lion  or  two  about  the 
place  to  show  him." 

"  How  lucky  you  are !  "  cried  Marcia,  joyously.  "  You 
have  found  a  whole  menagerie ! " 

"It  will  not  be  so  easy  for  you  to  get  away  from  the 
lions,"  said  Mrs.  Kirby,  eagerly  desirous  of  removing  any 
constraint  which  the  informality  of  their  invitation  might 
have  occasioned. 

From  the  readiness  with  which  Percy  adapted  himself 
to  the  situation,  it  might  be  inferred  that  no  man  had  ha<? 
BO  little  fear  of  lions  since  the  days  of  Daniel.  By  reason 
of  the  proximity  of  the  boats,  it  was  easy  for  him  to  lean 
across  the  intervening  water  and  talk  to  Marcia — in 
a  half-suppressed  tone,  as  if  he  were  desirous  not  to  offend 


228  WHERE  THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

the  delicate  susceptibilities  of  the  fish.  Naturally,  as  she 
turned  to  reply,  she  had,  in  a  degree,  the  air  of  ignoring 
Estwicke,  who,  when  he  relinquished  his  oar,  had  seated 
himself  beside  her.  It  was  only  after  some  little  time  that 
she  became  aware  of  her  remissness ;  then  she  made  an 
effort  to  draw  him  into  the  conversation.  But  he  had 
suddenly  grown  unresponsive  —  almost  formal.  Although 
he  kept  a  careful  restraint  upon  his  words  and  manner, 
that  he  might  make  no  overt  sign  of  indignation,  lie 
resented  the  fact  that  she  should  have  put  a  slight  upon 
him  for  Percy's  sake;  her  afterthought  made  scant 
amends.  Besides,  he  argued,  her  absorbed  interest  in 
Percy  was  significant ;  so  far  as  he  himself  was  con 
cerned  it  ought  to  be  definitive.  Why  should  he  hope 
against  hope  ?  He  remained  seated  beside  her,  but  he  fell 
to  angling  presently,  and  seldom  spoke  unless  directly 
addressed. 

"When  Brennett  stepped  from  one  skiff  to  the  other,  the 
only  vacant  seat  was  beside  Miss  St.  Pierre.  As  he  took 
it  he  was  still  looking  hard  at  her  with  speculating  uncer 
tainty  and  surprise.  He  had  been  altogether  unprepared 
for  this  passive  young  lady  with  her  infantile  —  not  to  say 
expressionless  countenance.  Travis's  character-sketch, 
in  which  the  predominating  traits  were  quick  intelligence 
and  tenacity  of  purpose,  might  well  apply  to  Miss  Vayne. 
He  hardly  felt  satisfied  as  to  their/  identity  until  he  once 
more  heard  them  addressed  by  their  respective  names. 
Then  he  again  bent  his  keen  eyes  upon  Antoinette's 
quiescent  face.  Its  unsuggestiveness  operated  momen 
tarily  as  a  check  upon  him.  To  judge  from  it  she  was 
made  up  of  all  gentle  and  negative  qualities.  He  had 
a  swift  fear  that  he  would  not  find  here  any  traits  of 
character  sufficiently  definite  and  developed  to  furnish 
him  a  basis  for  a  plan  of  action,  an  impetus  for  that 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  229 

lagging  project,  the  compromise.  "  Surely,"  he  said  to 
himself  in  irritation,  "  no  other  man  ever  had  so  unprom 
ising  material  to  work  upon,  —  a  dolt,  like  Travis ;  a 
runaway  horse,  like  Fortescue ;  and  this  nonentity,  this 
utter  blank !  "  And  looking  more  like  a  hawk  than  ever, 
for  his  life  he  could  see  nothing  further. 

He  declined  the  offer  of  a  rod  —  he  was  always  an  un 
successful  angler,  he  said,  and  the  two  were  thrown  upon 
the  resource  of  conversation  to  beguile  the  tedium  of  the 
next  hour  or  so. 

It  began  in  this  way. 

"  You  don't  fish,  Miss  St.  Pierre.     May  I  ask  why  ?  " 

This  inquiry  was  propounded  with  a  searching  glance. 
He  waited  for  her  reply  with  an  attention  which  seemed 
to  attach  to  it  a  disproportionate  importance. 

"  I  don't  care  for  fishing,"  she  said.  "  It  always  seems 
to  me  a  cruel  sport." 

"  Cruel  ?  Ah,  well,  perhaps.  But  I  confess  I  had  not 
thought  of  that.  I  can't  regard  a  fish  as  a  hero  who  fights 
for  his  home  and  his  life  and  dies  a  martyr.  For  gusta 
tory  reasons  I  hope  I  never  shall.  That  reflection  would 
not  improve  his  flavor." 

She  only  smiled  as  a  rejoinder.  Her  peculiar  talent  for 
forcing  the  burden  of  the  conversation  on  her  interlocutor, 
whoever  he  might  be,  was  somewhat  conspicuous  in  the 
pause  that  ensued. 

He  pulled  at  his  mustache  with  a  preoccupied  air. 
Even  her  casual  silence  was  noteworthy  —  so  important 
were  the  interests  at  stake,  and  so  utterly  destitute  was 
he  of  any  idea  as  to  how  he  had  best  proceed. 

"What  sort  of  fish  are  in  this  river?"  he  asked.  Ap 
parently  he  was  talking  only  for  the  sake  of  conversa 
tion. 

"  They  are  not  valued  highly,  I  believe,"  she  replied. 


230  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

"  That  is  why  it  seems  especially  cruel  to  catch  them  — 
when  no  one  cares  particularly  for  them." 

"Ah!  that  lets  in  the  light.  Even  a  sensibility  so 
delicate  has  its  practical  element.  If  they  were  valuable 
you  would  not  think  it  cruel  to  catch  them;  if  they  were 
valuable  it  might  seem  cruel  of  them  not  to  come  up  and 
be  caught.  Is  that  your  meaning  ?  " 

He  had  anticipated  that  she  would  be  confused  because 
of  this  misinterpretation,  and  would  perhaps  protest. 
She  laughed  a  little,  opening  and  shutting  her  black  fan, 
and  then  she  began  to  listlessly  fan  herself. 

"  I  have  always  heard  that  a  woman's  moral  intuition  is 
more  reliable  than  a  man's  conscientious  perception.  I 
like  to  be  supplied  with  those  infallible  feminine  convic 
tions.  I  appreciate  their  value.  I  shall  add  that  maxim 
of  yours  to  my  treasures,  — '  Don't  be  cruel  unless  it 's 
worth  while. ' " 

He  said  this  as  if  it  were  humorously  intended,  but 
there  was  a  peculiarly  irritating,  though  slight,  suggestion 
of  sarcasm  in  the  tones  of  his  voice.  She  did  not  seem, 
however,  to  apprehend  it.  She  smiled  placidly  as  her 
calm,  unspeaking  eyes  rested  on  the  swift  current  and  its 
shimmering  silver  circlets,  that  whirled  and  whirled  inter- 
fulgent,  the  blue  sky  above  and  the  reflected  blue  sky 
below. 

"She  controls  her  temper,"  he  said  to  himself;  "or, 
perhaps,"  he  added  dubiously,  "she  has  no  temper  to 
control." 

Once  more  he  looked  at  her  speculatively,  and  he  felt 
that  he  made  no  progress. 

He  tried  another  policy. 

"  I  hope  you  never  attempt  to  put  your  Tennessee 
friends  out  of  conceit  with  their  little  river,"  he  said 
presently,  glancing  disparagingly  about.  "  Do  you  claim 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  231 

to  be  remarkably  knowing  in  the  matter  of  rivers  because 
you  live  upon  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi  ?  " 

She  was  not  ready  at  repartee,  and  was  at  a  loss  for 
an  answer  to  a  question  like  this.  But  he  was  looking 
straight  at  her,  and  she  must  speak. 

"  No-o,"  she  hesitated,  at  a  venture. 

"That  is  right,"  he  rejoined,  lightly.  "It  is  what  I 
should  have  expected  of  }  ou.  For  I  remember  now  that 
old  French  motto  of  the  St.  Xantaine  family,  which,  freely 
translated,  might  be  made  to  read  —  'Deal  gently  with 
people  who  don't  own  a  Big  River.'  " 

There  was  a  change  now ;  her  color  intensified,  it  rose 
to  the  roots  of  her  fair  hair  and  crept  down  the  shadowy 
black  crape  about  her  throat ;  a  surprised  pleasure  looked 
out  brightly  from  her  eyes ;  her  lips  curved  suddenly  in  a 
pretty  smile. 

"  That  is  a  very  free  translation,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"  Can  a  translator  be  expected  to  do  more  than  give  the 
spirit  of  the  original  ?  " 

He  spoke  carelessly,  but  his  face  expressed  a  grave,  al 
most  breathless  interest.  Here,  certainly,  was  something 
definite  at  last.  Who  believed  more  faithfully  than  she 
that  the  St.  Xantaines  had  no  need  of  the  homage  of 
Maurice  Brennett,  or  of  any  other  man.  And  yet  she  was 
flattered  —  infinitely  flattered  —  by  this  slight  tribute  to 
the  family,  charged  with  an  adequate  recognition  of  its 
antiquity.  It  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that  in  the  con 
summate  adroitness  with  which  he  had  flung  this  seem 
ingly  casual  remark  into  the  conversation  she  should  dis 
cover  an  astute  intention.  But  her  manner  of  receiving  it 
augured  great  weakness.  "  And  yet  this  trait  of  family 
pride  is  something  intense,"  he  said  to  himself. 

He  was  silent  for  a  time,  absorbed  in  bootless  surprise 
that,  propitiated  as  she  must  have  been  —  as  he  could 


232  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

hardly  have  believed  possible  —  by  the  gift  of  the  heir 
loom,  she  should  suddenly  have  developed  that  distrust  of 
Travis  which  he  had  detected  in  her  letters.  His  swift 
mind  rushed  upon  its  conclusion.  "  She  was  influenced 
against  him  afterward  by  some  outside  cause  —  a  strong 
cause,  certainly.  What  was  it  ?  " 

He  had  no  inclination,  however,  to  speculate  vaguely 
about  the  wrecked  scheme  of  the  exchange  of  property. 
He  only  wished  to  steer  his  course  so  as  to  avoid  that 
sunken  rock  which  had  demolished  his  first  project. 
What  was  it? 

In  this  momentary  lapse  of  observation,  something 
escaped  him.  She  was  looking  at  him ;  kindly.  At  the 
instant  of  his  introduction  she  had  recognized  his  name 
as  that  of  the  man  whose  letter  she  had  never  answered, 
and  who  held  an  interest  similar  to  Fortescue's  in  her 
property;  so  fraught  with  perplexity  had  this  whole 
subject  become  that  she  felt  at  first  an  unreasonable 
prejudice  against  him  on  this  score.  Now,  however,  she 
was  beginning  to  be  agreeably  impressed  by  his  manner, 
and  more  by  his  face,  expressive  as  it  was  of  a  subtle 
power  and  some  deep  meaning  —  too  deep,  she  knew  in 
tuitively,  for  her  fathoming.  She  fell  to  wondering  who 
he  was,  and  why  she  had  never  heard  of  him  in  New  Or 
leans,  and  what  he  did  with  himself  in  the  world. 

Presently  he  resumed :  "  And  what  do  you  think  of 
Tennessee  cotton,  Miss  St.  Pierre  ?  Does  it  seem  a  carica 
ture  of  the  plant  when  you  remember  the  big  fields,  almost 
breast  high  even  at  this  time  of  the  year,  along  Bayou 
Gloire  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Bayou  Gloire  !  How  familiar  that  sounds  ! "  she 
cried.  "  Are  you  from  that  part  of  the  State  ?  " 

« No  —  I  am  not  from  Louisiana.  My  experience 
along  Bayou  Gloire  has  been  only  as  an  angler  —  ah,  J 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE    WAS   FOUGHT.  233 

forgot  your  tender  sensibilities !  To  reassure  you,  I  will 
pay  that  I  committed  few  murders  —  the  skill  was  lack 
ing.  I  used  to  go  with  Mr.  Travis  —  who,  as  you  know, 
is  an  expert  sportsman  and  truculent  to  a  degree.  By 
the  way,  when  did  you  see  him  last  ?  " 

There  was  a  pause.  Surely  she  had  no  need  to  guard 
her  words.  But  all  that  had  come  from  Travis's  visit  — 
the  proposed  exchange  of  property,  the  first  suggestion  of 
an  outstanding  title,  the  significance  which  finding  the 
locket  in  an  empty  grave  seemed  then  to  possess  —  in 
vested  the  very  mention  of  it  with  a  certain  importance, 
which,  however,  she  felt  was  undue,  and  very  foolish. 

She  had  a  sense,  that  made  her  angry  with  herself,  of 
closely  skirting  many  secrets  as  she  said, 

"  It  has  been  some  time  now  since  I  have  seen  him." 

The  pause  and  this  simple  reply  gave  him  food  for 
reflection. 

"  How  reticent  she  must  be  where  anything  touches  her 
interests,"  was  his  conclusion.  " '  Some  time ' — that  might 
mean  three  weeks,  or  three  months,  or  three  years.  She 
has  no  reason,  I  should  judge,  not  to  state  explicitly 
when  it  was.  She  is  instinctively,  constitutionally  cau 
tious  and  reticent." 

The  approach,  accidental  though  it  had  seemed,  to  these 
subjects,  which  had  given  her  so  much  disquietude,  had 
the  effect  of  putting  her  on  her  guard.  She  noted,  with 
a  sudden  surprise,  the  keenly  observant  expression  of  his 
bright  eyes.  She  had  an  unpleasant  fancy  that  there  was 
something  sinister  in  their  brilliancy;  she  began  to  feel 
like  a  creature  undergoing  vivisection,  whose  sufferings 
might  be  aggravated  by  the  knowledge  that  they  were 
not  for  the  benefit  of  humanity  or  of  science,  but  for  the 
personal  advantage  of  the  operator.  She  did  not  entirely 
understand  her  own  motive,  but  the  leading  idea  in  her 


234  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

mind  was  to  interrupt  his  study  of  her  pause  and  her 
words,  and  above  all,  and  before  all,  to  change  the  look 
he  bent  upon  her.  Yet  even  while  she  spoke  she  was 
arguing  within  herself  as  to  why  she  should  fear  his 
analysis  or  his  look. 

"Have  you  known  Mr.  Travis  long?"  she  asked. 

"  For  many  years,"  he  returned.  "  We  were  at  college 
together.  I  have  a  number  of  friends  among  your  con 
nections  and  relatives.  It  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  had  met 
you  before.  You  will  permit  me  that  little  hallucination 
of  acquaintance?" 

She  smiled  upon  him  in  sudden  reassurance.  How 
absurd,  she  said  to  herself,  that  she  should  imagine  that 
this  man  weighed  her  words  and  watched  her  face  with 
some  intent  and  secret  motive !  What  purpose  could  he 
serve? 

"  I  have  often  heard  you  spoken  of  among  them.  Per 
haps  you  know  that  you  are  a  favorite  subject  of  conver 
sation  with  Mrs.  Bradley.  The  last  time  I  saw  her  she 
was  talking  of  you  to  a  more  distant  relative  of  yours, — 
Mr.  Fortescue." 

Once  more  she  experienced  a  quick  revulsion  of  feeling. 
It  seemed  to  her  that,  considering  their  mutual  position 
toward  John  Fortescue  in  the  impending  litigation,  this 
mention  of  him  was  hardly  appropriate.  Somehow  she 
was  definitely  aware  of  an  intention  here.  She  recog 
nized  the  address  which  had  thus  innocuously  thrown  him 
into  the  conversation,  and  she  felt  instinctively  that  more 
was  to  come.  She  deprecated  it.  She  would  have 
avoided  it  if  she  could.  She  had  a  vague  idea  of  trying 
to  draw  some  one  else  into  the  conversation,  but  a  glanco 
at  the  other  members  of  the  party  demonstrated  how 
futile  such  an  effort  would  be.  Mr.  Ridgeway  was  assist 
ing  Mrs.  Kirby,  in  the  midst  of  whispered  excitement,  to 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  235 

land  a  fish.  Beyond  these  bulky  old  people  could  be  seen 
Mrs.  Ridgeway's  broad  shoulders  in  a  state  of  abnormal 
activity,  as  she  animatedly  wound  and  unwound  a  snarl 
of  fish-line.  At  the  other  end  of  the  boat  was  Marcia, 
listening  to  Horace  Percy,  and  now  and  then  turning  to 
appeal  to  Estwicke,  whose  evident  absorption  in  their 
talk  —  although  he  was  saying  little  —  as  well  as  the  dis 
tance,  precluded  Antoinette's  hope  of  appropriately  claim 
ing  his  attention. 

Brennett's  low  voice,  subdued  in  deference  to  the 
requirements  of  the  anglers,  and  inaudible  except  to  her, 
diverted  her  from  her  indefinite,  hazy  project. 

"  Did  you  ever  meet  Mr.  Fortescue  ?  "  he  asked ;  "  but 
no ;  you  must  have  been  too  young.  I  remember  now 
that  he  said  he  has  not  been  to  New  Orleans  before  for 
many  years." 

"  I  have  never  met  him,"  she  replied  gravely. 

"You  have  missed  something,"  he  said,  with  a  half 
suppressed,  sardonic  laugh.  "  A  man  with  the  world  in  a 
sling  —  like  Fortescue  —  is  worth  knowing.  He  goes 
everywhere,  he  sees  everything,  he  knows  everybody. 
The  interest  of  his  debts  brings  him  a  handsome 
income.  The  rights  of  other  people  are  nullified,  so  far 
as  he  is  concerned,  by  a  self-arrogated  prerogative  that  is 
almost  royal.  And  he  considers  himself  a  king  —  a  king 
among  fools,  and  levies  a  heavy  tribute,  as  I  know  to  my 
cost.  And  that  reminds  me,"  he  added,  turning  to  her 
suddenly,  "  that  you  never  answered  my  letter." 

In  the  momentary  confusion  which  this  outburst  in 
duced,  she  was  at  first  sensible  only  of  the  rudeness  and 
bad  taste  which  it  involved,  and  she  appreciated  keenly 
the  very  evident  fact  that  Maurice  Brennett  had  been 
bred  to  know  how  reprehensible  rudeness  and  bad  taste 
are.  The  next  instant  the  nebulous  suspicions  afloat  in 


236  WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

her  mind  —  the  suspicions  which  the  lawyers'  letter  and 
Brennett's  had  failed  to  disperse  —  suddenly  crystallized. 
There  was  no  adequate  reason  for  it,  but  all  at  once 
she  believed  that  the  man  calling  himself  Fortescue  was 
an  impostor,  and  that  the  locket,  with  that  name  in  it, 
which  she  had  found  in  an  empty  grave  on  the  battle 
field,  belonged  to  a  soldier  long  ago  dead.  And  here  was 
the  impostor's  chosen  coadjutor !  This,  and  this  only, 
would  give  him  a  motive  to  weigh  her  words ;  this,  and 
this  only,  would  set  him  to  watch  her  face.  She  felt 
sure  that  for  some  reason,  some  unconjecturable  reason, 
she  personally  had  become  important  to  the  success  of 
their  scheme.  There  was  something  he  wanted  to  find 
out  from  her ;  she  was  to  be  their  unconscious  ally  against 
her  own  interests.  She  began  to  try  to  remember  what 
she  had  said,  and  what  it  might  mean  to  him.  But  she 
could  not  think,  —  a  chilly  trepidation  was  overpowering 
her,  —  vague,  unreasonable ;  she  only  knew  that  she  feared 
him. 

"  I  was  sorry  to  trouble  you  with  a  letter  on  business," 
he  continued.  "  And  I  am  aware  that  among  the  impor 
tant  absorptions  of  a  young  lady's  correspondence  such 
dull  matters  must  wait.  But  I  have  at  length  begun  to 
despair  of  my  turn." 

"My  lawyer  will  give  you  an  answer,"  she  replied 
tremulously. 

She  hardly  noticed  that  they  had  quitted  the  shade  of 
the  Coteatoy  Bluffs,  and  were  pulling  steadily  up  the 
stream  toward  a  shelving  bank,  where  the  party  proposed 
to  take  lunch.  The  continuous  chatter,  in  the  usual  tone 
of  voice  now,  of  the  other  occupants  of  the  boat  fell 
unheeded  upon  her  ears.  As  she  mentally  canvassed  the 
situation,  she  was  mechanically  drawing  her  black  glovea 
back  and  forth  in  her  soft,  white  hands,  and  now  and  then 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  237 

toying  nervously  with  the  buttons.  This  sign  of  agitation 
did  not  escape  his  attention  as  he  sat  beside  her,  his  hat 
drawn  down  over  his  brow  to  shield  his  eyes  from  the 
glare  of  the  sunlight  and  its  reflection  on  the  water.  As 
the  skiff  was  run  upon  the  bank,  he  stepped  out  and 
offered  to  assist  her.  She  gave  him  her  hand  with,  he 
fancied,  some  slight  reluctance.  He  felt  that  it  trembled 
and  was  cold.  "  She  is  nervous  and  timorous  beyond  the 
natural  timidity  of  her  sex,  and  somehow  or  other  she 
is  afraid  of  me"  he  said  to  himself,  surprised. 

The  way  was  stony  and  rough ;  here  and  there  the  roots 
of  a  tree  protruded.  In  one  of  these  Antoinette  caught 
her  foot  and  almost  fell.  Brennett  and  Estwicke  each 
offered  his  arm  at  the  same  moment,  but  she  affected  not 
to  see  Brennett  and  accepted  Estwicke's  proffer.  Only 
once  she  spoke  to  him. 

"  Take  me  to  Mrs.  Kirby,"  she  said.  "  I  think  she  has 
a  vinaigrette,  and  I  've  signalized  the  occasion  by  getting 
up  a  headache." 

"Perhaps  it  is  the  effect  of  the  sun,"  said  Estwicke. 
"  Suppose  you  rest  here  in  the  shade  while  I  go  for  the 
vinaigrette." 

"  No  —  no  —  I  '11  go  with  you,"  she  insisted  eagerly. 

As  they  walked  on  together  she  was  silent,  and  Est 
wicke,  too,  seemed  abstracted.  But  the  influence  of  his 
familiar  presence  reassured  her  to  some  degree.  The  soft 
green  shadows  were  grateful  after  the  glare  on  the  river ; 
a  bird  was  singing  somewhere;  the  wind  stirred.  She 
was  among  her  friends  —  she  let  her  hand  rest  heavily  on 
Estwicke's  arm  as  they  strolled  slowly  along  beneath  the 
overhanging  boughs  —  why  should  she  entertain  a  fear 
BO  vague  that  she  could  not  put  it  into  words?  If  all 
that  she  suspected  were  true,  who  could  be  endangered 
but  Brennett  and  his  accomplice  ?  It  was  only  necessary 


238  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

to  be  cautious  so  that  no  money  might  be  lost  by  their 
finesse. 

She  recovered  her  composure  more  easily  from  a  certain 
self-gratulation  which  she  began  to  experience  just  now. 
How  fortunate  it  was,  she  thought,  that  she  had  not 
written  again  to  Temple  Meredith  and  possibly  influenced 
him  to  unwise  and  premature  action.  Perhaps  he,  too, 
had  detected  something  abnormal  in  the  circumstances 
surrounding  these  two  men,  and  intended  to  speak  only 
when  he  had  merged  his  suspicions  in  certainty.  She 
resolved  that  she  would  not  write  again  —  she  would  not 
hamper  him  with  an  insistent  letter  at  a  juncture  like  this. 
As  the  facts  gradually  developed  they  seemed  more  and 
more  to  justify  caution,  and  certainly  this  demonstration 
ought  to  convince  her  that  it  was  not  she  who  had  suffered 
by  the  delay.  She  would  wait  patiently,  and  Maurice 
Brennett  might  wait  also. 

They  presently  overtook  Mrs.  Kirby,  and  when  An 
toinette  made  known  her  wants  the  old  lady  offered  the 
vinaigrette  with  disconnected  exclamations  of  sympathy. 
She  seemed  to  specially  deprecate  this  seizure.  "Try 
to  shake  it  off,  my  dear,"  she  said,  in  an  earnest  aside. 
"  You  won't  be  able  to  talk  to  Mr.  Brennett.  I  was  so 
glad  he  came  —  yes.  Horace  Percy  says  he  is  such  an 
agreeable,  intellectual  man  —  and  you  are  so  fond  of 
books !  And  we  have  so  little  company  in  the  country 
for  you."1 

Mrs.  Kirby  was  of  opinion  that  men  are  born  into  this 
world  for  the  single  purpose  of  falling  willing  victims  to 
the  fascinations  of  young  ladies.  It  really  was  a  pity 
that  Antoinette's  headache  should  interfere  with  her  op 
portunity  of  enslaving  so  agreeable  and  intellectual  a  vic 
tim,  especially  as  dear  Antoinette  —  such  a  sweet  girl,  too 
-—was  not  usually  interesting  to  gentlemen.  Captain 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  239 

Estwicke  had  evidently  not  been  particularly  attracted, 
and  Mr.  Travis  had  come  no  more.  But  already  Mr, 
Brennett  seemed  greatly  impressed.  In  the  boat  she 
had  noticed  how  deeply  he  was  absorbed  in  the  conversa 
tion. 

"  Oh,  it 's  a  fearful  bore  to  talk  to  him,"  cried  An- 
toinette  fervently. 

Mrs.  Kirby  looked  at  her  in  disappointment  and  grave 
reprobation.  Here  was  all  the  material  for  a  charming 
romance,  except  the  good-will  of  the  lady. 

Still,  when  Brennett  joined  them,  Mrs.  Kirby  hopefully 
welcomed  him;  more  than  once  afterward  she  observed 
that,  as  he  half-reclined  on  the  grass  near  them,  lazily  sup 
porting  himself  on  one  elbow,  he  cast  a  swift  glance  of 
covert  attention  upon  the  young  girl.  It  augured  a 
deepening  interest,  and  was  an  infinite  accession  to  the 
sentimental  old  lady's  satisfaction.  How  should  she 
divine  that  he  was  only  saying  to  himself,  again  and  again 

—  "  Reticent  and  cautious  —  extremely  timid  and  proud 

—  and  what  can  I  make  of  this  ?  " 

He  sought  to  renew  his  conversation  with  her,  and  Mrs. 
Kirby  would  have  been  very  glad  to  give  him  a  clear  field. 
But  Antoinette  was  so  monosyllabic  and  absent-minded 
that,  ascribing  her  lassitude  to  her  headache,  the  old  lady 
tried  to  make  amends.  The  talk  fell  naturally  upon 
mutual  acquaintances  in  Graftenburg.  Gradually  she  be 
came  animated  and  retrospective.  She  gave  him,  with 
great  particularity,  the  "  maiden  names  "  of  the  mothers 
and  grandmothers  of  his  friends,  and  various  collateral 
relationships  fell  tributary  into  the  sweeping  current  of 
reminiscence ;  dates  ran  riot  upon  it,  and  the  sails  of  many 
a  memory-treasured  romance  spread  themselves  to  the 
breeze.  The  graces  of  Maurice  Brennett's  intellect  were 
chiefly  displayed  in  the  brilliancy  with  which  he  listened. 


240  WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

Although  he  bore  himself  thus  creditably,  the  little  mat 
ters  which  so  engrossed  Mrs.  Kirby  fatigued  him  beyond 
measure.  Sometimes  the  whinnying  laughter  of  the 
coltish  Vayne  boys  broke  sharply  on  the  air,  and  as  his 
eyes  mechanically  followed  the  sound,  he  found  a  mo 
mentary  diversion  in  the  spectacle  presented  by  them  and 
their  juvenile  friends  —  all  grouped  suggestively  close  to 
the  hamper  —  the  smallest,  Edgar,  treated  now  like  a  hero 
among  them,  and  now  sadly  badgered,  according  to  the 
ups  and  downs  of  a  bigger  world.  It  was  even  a  relief  — 
absurd  as  that  might  seem  —  to  catch  a  few  words  of  old 
Mr.  Ridgeway's  eager  apoplectic  discourse,  on  a  wide 
range  of  subjects  intermediary  between  the  plan  of  atone 
ment  and  the  policy  of  the  nation,  with  which  Estwicke, 
hard  by,  was  regaled  along  with  the  sandwiches. 

For  Estwicke  no  longer  remained  beside  Marcia,  and 
thus  assisted  at  the  conversational  triumphs  of  his  rival  — 
it  was  Percy's  habit  to  talk  much,  and  much  about  him 
self,  recounting  glib  little  stories  in  which,  without 
coarsely  bragging,  he  dexterously  contrived  to  appear 
always  as  an  enviable  figure.  She  maintained  a  responsive 
animation,  and  when  Estwicke  had  strolled  away  to  the 
other  group  her  laugh  still  reached  him.  It  was  a  very 
charming  laugh.  He  did  not  doubt  its  mirthfulness. 
The  picture  was  suggestive  as  Percy  sat  beside  her  on 
the  bole  of  a  great  tree,  fallen  in  a  late  wind-storm,  the 
leaves  still  green  on  the  boughs  that  clustered  about 
them.  This  day  was  as  an  idyl  to  them,  Estwicke  said  to 
himself  —  and  as  fev  him  and  his  heavy  heart,  and  his 
misplaced  love,  and  his  cold  torpor  of  despair,  these 
were  merely  the  requisite  contrasting  elements  in  the 
perfect  poem. 

And  now  the  sun  was  sinking,  and  the  pleasure  party 
was  afloat  again  and  speeding  down  the  river,  —  past  the 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  241 

Cotcatoy  Bluffs ;  past  the  National  Cemetery,  with  its 
vast  array  of  mounds  marshalled  about  the  flagstaff,  with 
its  monument  in  the  midst,  and  at  intervals  field-pieces 
and  piles  of  balls.  And  now  past  another  cemetery,  its 
ghastlier  simulacrum  —  where  no  monument  rises,  no  flag 
waves,  —  with  only  the  splendors  of  the  evening  sky  above 
it,  and  the  glancing  wings  of  the  homeward  bound  birds. 
Here  are  the  piers  of  the  old  bridge ;  and  here  is  the  green 
enamelled  stretch  of  the  battle-field.  The  scent  of  clover 
is  on  the  air ;  the  cry  of  quail  rises  from  the  grass. 

The  sky  is  crimson  and  the  water  is  crimson,  and  they 
la  ad  in  the  midst  of  the  red  tranaet. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

was  a  golden  moon  in  the  purple  dusk,  and 
the  world  was  sweet  one  night.  Delicate  odors 
drifted  along  the  imperceptible  current  of  the  air  from 
the  lilies  that  grew  in  the  fissures  of  the  bomb-riven 
stones  which  had  once  upheld  the  sunken  terraces.  A 
mocking-bird,  perched  somewhere  on  the  shattered  cu 
pola,  was  singing  as  if  he  were  a  conscientious  contractor, 
pledged  to  supply  the  earth  with  music.  The  creamy, 
gold-centred  roses  that  clambered  up  the  pillars  of  the 
portico  caught  the  dew  and  glistened.  One  could  look 
out  at  the  cruel  old  battle-field  only  through  their 
charmed  vistas.  There  was  no  wind,  and  the  shadows 
that  thronged  the  haunted  thickets,  and  lined  the  re 
doubts,  and  lurked  in  the  rifle-pits,  were  motionless. 

When  Brennett  and  Percy  reached  the  house  this  eve 
ning,  a  week,  perhaps,  after  the  fishing  party,  they  found 
the  family  seated  upon  the  long,  broad  portico  for  the 
enjoyment  of  the  fresh  air.  It  was  not  Brennett's  first 
asit.  Since  the  day  of  the  excursion  he  had  been  here 
once  by  invitation,  and  had  called  once.  Except  for  the 
most  unmeaning  conventionalities,  he  had  not  spoken  to 
Antoinette,  and  she  was  genuinely  astonished  that  he  had 
made  no  overture  to  recur  to  the  subject  of  conversation 
which  he  had  seemed  persistently  anxious  to  pursue  on 
the  occasion  of  their  first  meeting.  This  evening,  imme 
diately  after  the  greetings,  he  took  a  chair  near  her  and 
242 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  243 

a  little  apart  from  the  others.  It  might  have  been  acci« 
dent ;  she  thought  it  design. 

And  yet,  when  he  turned  and  spoke  to  her,  nothing 
could  be  more  commonplace  than  his  words  and  manner ; 
more  in  accord  with  this  world's  ways;  more  antago 
nistic  to  the  suspicion  of  plots  and  such  fantastic  vagaries 
with  which  she  had  lately  been  prone  to  invest  all  pro 
saic  events. 

"  There  is  the  recompense  for  the  loss  of  the  trees ; 
you  can't  get  an  adequate  idea  of  the  moonlight  any 
where  else,"  he  said,  looking  out  at  it,  as  it  lay  in  a  splen 
did  vastness  upon  the  vast  plain.  "  In  towns  you  have  it 
cut  into  parallelograms  and  triangles.  You  may  demon 
strate  a  theorem  at  every  street  corner.  In  the  woods, 
the  shadows  are  paramount.  At  sea,  the  water  asserts 
itself ;  it  has  its  reflections,  and  its  motion,  and  its  sug 
gestions  of  glancing  color.  Here,  the  still  earth  takes 
the  moonlight  like  a  benediction.  And  you  can  be  still, 
too,  and  perhaps  blessed  How  is  that,  Miss  St.  Pierre? 
Do  you  feel  its  influence?  Does  the  world  fall  away? 
Are  you  ready  to  renounce  the  artificialities?" 

A  fit  rejoinder  did  not  present  itself.  Her  belief  that 
Brennett  was  involved  in  some  plot  against  her  interests, 
and  her  eager  scrutiny  to  detect  a  purpose  in  all  he  said, 
preoccupied  her  faculties,  and  she  was  conscious  of  seem 
ing  flatly  unresponsive,  as  she  replied,  with  a  little  laugh, 
"  No-o,  I  hardly  think  I  am  ready  to  renounce  the  arti 
ficialities." 

"  That  is  an  essentially  feminine  conclusion,"  he  re 
turned  lightly.  "  Women  are  all  for  —  not  the  artificiali 
ties,  no,  I  will  say,  for — progress.  They  have  no  sympathy 
udth  that  yearning  for  the  more  primitive  modes  of  life, 
which  sends  a  man  to  the  woods,  to  *  rough  it'  with  his 
dog  and  gun.  When  a  woman  sighs  for  nature,  the 


244  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

beautiful  and  true,  she  wants  it  en  flte  champdtre.  She 
predicates  upon  nature  a  parasol.  And  there  must  be 
cavaliers  and  claret  cup." 

Evidently  the  man  had  no  purpose  in  his  speech.  Her 
interest  in  the  subject  suddenly  became  more  genuine. 

"  But  for  our  influence,  then,"  she  said,  "  our  civilizing 
influence,  man  might  still  be  in  the  wilderness.  Is  that 
your  theory?" 

"  Perhaps." 

"  It  is  well  that  somebody  is  progressive." 

"  But  am  I  right  ?  Are  women  progressive  ?  Are  you 
progressive  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  very." 

"So  I  should  judge.  And  that  is  why  it  seems  to  me 
Btrange  that  you  have  not  replied  to  the  letter  written  by 
Mr.  Fortescue's  lawyers." 

He  was  looking  hard  at  her.  His  eyes  gleamed,  two 
brilliant  points  of  light,  in  the  dusky  shade  of  the  vines 
which  hung  above  him.  At  a  little  distance  were  the 
other  members  of  the  party  in  the  full  moonlight,  their 
r>lack  shadows  impishly  foreshortened,  but  sharply  defined 
jipon  the  great  blocks  of  limestone  that  floored  the  por 
tico.  With  their  every  gesture  these  silhouettes  moved 
in  a  silently  exaggerated  excitement,  and  there  were 
many  gestures,  for  the  group  was  merry  and  animated. 
Edgar  was  standing  between  his  sister  and  aunt,  and 
Percy  was  drawing  from  him  a  naively  enthusiastic  ac 
count  of  the  wonders  he  had  seen  at  the  circus  yesterday. 
The  little  boy's  shrill  treble  rang  loud  above  the  other 
laughing  voices,  and  all  together  overpowered  the  low 
tones  of  the  two  who  sat  apart.  Antoinette  glanced 
absently  at  this  vivacious  quartette,  then  at  the  silent, 
bobbing,  elfish  caricature  behind  it,  convulsed  with  noise 
less  merriment,  and  once  more  at  Brennett.  He  was  8tiJ". 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT.  245 

gazing  at  her.  She  caught  her  breath  with  a  quick  start, 
and  the  blood  rushed  to  her  face.  For  there  was  a  sar 
castic  expression  in  his  eyes,  a  peculiar  intonation  in  his 
voice,  as  he  laughed  a  little,  significantly.  What  wap  the 
import  of  the  tone  and  look  she  could  not  divine ;  she 
did  riot  pause  to  analyze  them,  nor  to  consider  her  reply. 
She  was  angered  suddenly  and  beyond  endurance,  arid 
she  spoke  upon  the  impulse  of  the  moment. 

"  And  it  seems  to  me  not  a  little  strange,  Mr.  Brennett, 
that  you  should,  uninvited,  persistently  question  me  about 
my  own  affairs.  If  ever  I  should  want  your  advice,  I 
shall  venture  to  ask  for  it.  Until  then  may  I  beg  that 
you  do  not  interfere  in  matters  with  which  you  have  no 
concern." 

There  was  a  flash  of  astonishment  in  his  eyes,  and  a 
grave  constraint  in  the  change  of  his  face.  She  knew, 
the  moment  after  she  had  spoken,  that  she  had  been 
guilty,  not  only  of  bad  manners,  but  of  great  folly,  in 
permitting  herself  to  fly  into  a  passion  without  a  sufficient 
provocation.  What  so  intangible  as  a  tone,  what  ground 
of  offence  so  untenable!  And  had  the  man  no  "con 
cern  "  in  the  matter  ?  And  yet,  for  all  her  confusion  and 
regret,  she  felt  that  his  surprise  was  cleverly  simulated, 
and  that  he  had  wished  to  produce  the  result  he  had  so 
effectually  done,  —  to  make  her  angry,  provoke  her  to  an 
outbreak,  and  put  her  in  the  wrong. 

"  I  cannot  sufficiently  reprobate  my  rudeness,"  he  said. 
"Let  me  assure  you  it  was  unintentional.  It  did  not 
occur  to  me  that  the  mention  of  the  subject  was  amiss. 

did  not  suppose  that  you  would  consider  me  an  officious 
intermeddler,  as  I  have  a  pecuniary  interest  involved, 
being  Mr.  Fortescue's  creditor.  I  took  the  liberty,  you 
may  remember,  of  writing  to  you  to  that  effect  some 
time  ago.  I  thought  I  might  perhaps  talk  the  matter 


246  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

over  with  you  and  learn  your  intention  in  regard  to  the 
proposed  adjustment.  Naturally,  I  am  anxious  that  it 
should  be  speedily  effected,  so  that  I  can  collect  a  very 
bad  debt.  I  don't  say  all  this  to  justify  myself  —  only  in 
some  small  degree  as  an  excuse.  I  can  find  no  words  to 
ask  your  pardon." 

He  was  leaning  forward  with  an  extreme  earnestness 
of  manner.  One  hand  lay  on  the  balustrade ;  the  other, 
holding  his  hat,  was  upon  his  knee.  His  eager,  depre 
catory  face  was  plainly  shown  in  the  moonlight.  She 
dropped  her  eyes,  a  deep  flush  burned  on  her  cheeks  ;  the 
shadow  of  a  belated  humming-bird,  still  fluttering  high 
among  the  roses,  wavered  now  across  her  fair  hair  and 
now  across  the  long  black  folds  of  her  dress. 

She  was  fully  aware  that  this  was  a  solemn  sham,  but 
with  a  curious  doubleness  she  saw  the  hardship  of  the 
position  in  which  he  had  adroitly  placed  himself  as  if  it 
were  real.  With  her  stern  ideas  of  right  she  could  not 
let  matters  thus  remain.  For  what  proof  —  what  proof 
had  she  with  which  to  assail  his  statement.  He  must 
have  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 

"  Mr.  Brennett,"  she  began,  "  I  can't  accept  your 
apology  —  for  I  must  offer  mine.  I  was  not  warranted 
in  what  I  said  —  I  " — 

"  Oh,  I  beg  of  you  "  —  he  interrupted,  with  a  gesture  of 
insistence. 

"If  you  please,  I  should  like  to  ask  you  a  question 
about  this  claim  of  Mr.  Fortescue's,"  she  resumed,  think 
ing  this  less  awkward  than  a  forced  transition  to  other 
topics,  and  besides  shrewdly  wishing  to  secure  some  ad 
vantage  since  the  subject  had  been  broached. 

"If  I  can  give  you  any  information  I  shall  be  very 
happy." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  why  Mr.  Fortescue  failed   to 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT.  247 

press  his  claim  against  my  half-sister,  Mrs.  Perrier.  He 
has  permitted  it  to  lie  idle  a  long  time." 

She  paused  for  an  instant,  endeavoring  to  find  fit  and  in 
telligible  expressions  for  her  ideas.  Then,  with  a  recollec 
tion  of  one  of  Temple  Meredith's  phrasings,  she  went  on. 

"  The  length  of  time  that  has  elapsed  since  the  deter 
mination  of  the  estate  per  autre  vie  is  more  than  sufficient 
to  bar  his  claim.  I  can't  understand  upon  what  pretext 
he  intends  to  attack  the  property  now." 

"  It  is  easily  enough  explained,"  said  Brennett.  "  He 
was  abroad  at  the  time  of  the  determination  of  the  estate 
per  autre  vie.  He  was  not  aware  of  it  himself  until  just 
before  his  return  last  March.  The  fact  of  this  absence 
makes  it  possible  for  him  to  recover  now,  for,  as  you 
may  perhaps  know,  the  statute  expressly  excepts  persons 
who  are  '  without  the  limits  of  the  United  States.'  So, 
you  see,  he  has  three  years  from  last  March  to  institute 
proceedings  for  the  recovery  of  the  property.  The  law 
allows  three  years  next  after  the  removal  of  the  dis 
ability." 

Antoinette  was  silent,  and  for  a  moment  he  was  silent 
too.  She  was  canvassing  what  he  had  said  —  reasonable, 
credible  enough,  but  for  one  discrepancy  —  a  fatal  dis 
crepancy.  For  how  could  it  be,  if  Fortescue  remained 
abroad  since  '57,  that  that  locket,  a  woman's  gift,  with 
his  name  and  hers  engraved  in  it,  was  lost  on  the  battle 
field  ;  that  it  was  found  in  an  empty  grave  from  which 
a  soldier,  killed  in  the  great  struggle,  had  been  after 
ward  removed.  This  was  some  strange  imposture.  She 
was  sure  of  it. 

His  voice  recalled  her  attention.  He  had  returned  to 
the  subject  of  the  statute  of  limitations.  At  first  it 
seemed  to  her  that  he  was  disposed  to  talk  discursively. 
u  In  Tennessee,"  he  said,  "  for  rather  more  than  five  years 


248  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

and  a  half  —  during  the  war  and  some  time  afterward  — 
the  operation  of  the  statute  of  limitations  was  intermit- 
ted.  Well,  pending  this  intermission,  when,  by  reason  of 
the  suspension  of  the  courts,  he  could  by  no  possibility 
have  instituted  suit,  Mr.  Fortescue  returned  to  this 
country,  entered  the  army,  was  badly  wounded  at  this 
battle  out  here,  and  "  — 

She  started  so  violently  that  he  suddenly  stopped 
speaking  and  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  He  gave  her  no 
time  to  recover.  He  asked  a  curt  question  which  neces 
sitated  an  instant  reply.  "  Did  you  never  hear  that  he 
was  wounded  at  this  battle  ?  " 

"Yes  —  no"  —  she  faltered.  "I  know  little  about 
him,"  she  went  on,  striving  to  muster  her  composure. 
"He  is  a  very  distant  relative.  I  have  never  seen  him, 
and  have  rarely  heard  him  mentioned." 

"You  seemed  surprised.  What  did  I  say  to  surprise 
you  ?  "  asked  Brennett  quickly. 

She  answered  precipitately,  still  startled  and  confused. 

"  I  was  surprised  that  you  should  say  he  was  wounded 
here  —  so  near  to  us  now.  I  was  —  I  was  —  a  little 
nervous,"  she  concluded,  inconsequently. 

Brennett  laughed  carelessly,  as  if  the  matter  involved 
only  a  young  lady's  morbidly  delicate  sensibilities. 

"  You  must  be  very  nervous,  indeed,  to  shudder  at  the 
idea  that  a  man  was  wounded  near  this  place  so  many 
years  ago.  Reassure  yourself,  Miss  St.  Pierre,  by  remem 
bering  how  many  were  killed." 

Still  his  eyes  were  intent  upon  the  shifting  expressions 
on  her  face.  There  was  no  imposture,  she  was  thinking 
now.  The  finding  of  that  trinket  was  accounted  for  so 
readily  —  so  naturally.  Her  secret  was  rendered  of  no 
avail  when  this  man  knew  and  mentioned  the  fact  that 
Fortescue  had  borne  a  part  in  the  great  conflict.  What 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  249 

was  more  probable  than  that  he  had  lost  the  locket  when 
he  was  wounded  ?  She  had  always  fancied  that  the  bit 
of  watch-chain  by  which  it  was  suspended  had  been  cut 
smoothly  off  by  a  bullet,  but  the  wound  was  not  of 
necessity  mortal.  ISTow  she  realized  how  simple  and 
likely  a  thing  it  was  that  the  locket  had  fallen  unnctieed, 
and  that  afterward,  as  the  earth  was  shovelled  away,  it 
slipped  into  a  soldier's  grave,  where,  among  the  clods  and 
withered  leaves,  it  had  since  lain  undisturbed.  She  said 
to  herself  that  she  must  discard  the  idea  that  Brennett  had 
deftly  constructed  an  ingenious  plot,  and  that  this  locket 
was  the  clue  to  its  weak  point.  She  had  a  sense  of  loss, 
for  she  had  relied  upon  it  as  a  masked  battery,  certain  in 
some  way  to  demolish  the  imposture  she  had  so  strongly 
suspected. 

As  her  wandering  glance  came  back  from  the  west, 
where  Fort  Despair  and  the  haunted  thickets  rose  starkly 
up,  silent  and  lonely  in  the  white  moonlight,  she  became 
conscious  that  he  was  still  watching  her,  and  she  detected 
in  his  face  a  certain  speculation.  She  wondered  at  his 
surprise  as  he  had  wondered  at  hers. 

"Why  does  he  find  it  so  strange?"  she  thought. 

"There,  are  depths  here  still  unsounded,"  Brennett 
argued  within  himself.  "The  lead-line  has  not  reached 
the  bottom." 

"As  I  was  saying,"  he  continued,  "Fortescue  was 
wounded  and  captured.  He  remained  in  prison  until  the 
surrender,  when  he  went  immediately  to  France,  and  did 
not  come  back  to  this  country  until  March,  1871.  Under 
ordinary  circumstances,  even  a  temporary  return  would 
operate  as  a  removal  of  the  disability,  but  the  suspension 
was  prescribed  in  view  of  an  abnormal  state  of  affairs,  and 
ae  has  three  years  from  the  time  he  landed  last  March  in 
which  to  bring  suit." 


250  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

Fortescue  certainly  seemed  to  command  the  situation. 
Her  recollections  of  Meredith's  exposition  in  regard  to  the 
state  of  the  title  only  confirmed  her  in  this  conclusion. 
It  was  with  some  vague  idea  of  appearing  undismayed  by 
these  formidable  representations  that  she  said,  — 

"  But  suppose  the  court  should  decide  that  the  return 
during  the  suspension  did  operate  as  a  removal  of  the  dis 
ability?" 

"  Such  a  decision  would  be  contrary  both  to  the  spirit 
and  letter  of  the  enactment.  How  could  the  man  bring 
an  action  at  law  when  no  courts  were  held,  and  the  whole 
country  was  filled  with  contending  armies  ?  Such  a  de 
cision  would  be  very  unjust,  and  law,  you  know,  is  not 
only  'the  perfection  of  reason,'  but  justice  besides.  Then 
there  is  precedent  in  his  favor.  His  counsel  think  his  case 
very  strong.  You  see,  I  have  posted  myself,  having  an 
interest  involved,  and  hearing  from  him  that  a  proposal 
to  adjust  the  matter  amicably  was  under  consideration. 
His  lawyers  were  averse  to  making  the  proposition.  They 
endeavored  to  dissuade  him.  No  one  else  with  such  a 
case  would  think  of  a  compromise.  But  you  know  with 
a  man  like  Fortescue  argument  is  futile  and  common 
sense  thrown  away." 

"  I  don't  know,  for  I  don't  know  Mr.  Fortescue  at  all." 

"I  remember  now  that  you  told  me  that  before.  1 
know  him,  though.  But  I  made  no  effort  to  dissuade 
him.  If  I  could  I  wouldn't." 

He  laughed  after  a  moment's  reflection ;  then  turned 
his  head  and  glanced  about  him. 

"It  is  a  lapse,  certainly,  from  the  eternal  fitness  of 
things,  that  in  the  presence  of  this  moonlight  and  these 
roses  a  man  should  find  nothing  better  to  talk  to  you 
about  than  his  paltry  three  thousand  dollars,  and  your 
property,  and  Mr.  Fortescue's  claim." 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  251 

Perhaps  she  had  no  realizing  sense  of  this  incongruity. 
She  pursued  the  subject  with  grave  intentness. 

"  Why  would  n't  you  advise  him  against  a  settlement 
if  you  and  his  lawyers  think  it  impolitic." 

"Because  I  am  not  a  disinterested  man,  Miss  St. 
Pierre.  He  owes  me  money.  I  shall  get  it  sooner  if 
you  and  he  can  come  to  terms,  than  at  the  end  of  a 
lawsuit." 

She  said  nothing,  and  after  a  little  he  resumed,  — 

"Honestly,  it  is  the  best  solution  for  all  concerned. 
He  prefers  ready  money  now  to  the  property  after  long 
litigation.  I  want  his  debt  paid.  And  you  have  a  large 
estate  in  jeopardy  —  as  good  as  lost  if  you  go  into  court. 
And  then  you  have,  besides  the  financial  interests,  a  mat 
ter  of  feeling  involved." 

"  A  matter  of  feeling !  "  she  exclaimed. 

He  turned  his  eyes  upon  her  with  a  vague  doubt  in 
his  face. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "  one  person  cannot  judge  for  another, 
but  it  seems  to  me  it  would  be  more  —  more  —  politic,  it 
would  be  wiser  —  to  give  Fortescue  what  he  will  take  and 
get  him  out  of  the  country,  for  the  sake  of  the  past  —  you 
know  —  of  your  family.  There 's  no  way  of  —  of  —  muz 
zling  Aim,  you  know." 

"  What  —  what  —  do  you  mean?"  she  asked,  her  heart 
beating  fast,  her  color  fluctuating. 

"  I  hope  —  I  hope  —  I  have  n't  offended  you,"  he  said 
with  great  eagerness.  "  The  allusion  escaped  me  in  view 
ing  the  question  from  all  its  standpoints." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked  again. 

"I  only  meant  a  caution.  Fortescue  is  a  drunkard. 
He  has  no  remorse,  nor  pity,  nor  shame.  And  drunken 
men  tell  secrets.  They  got  him  out  of  the  country  onca 
to  hush  him  up.  And  this  affair  has  brought  him  back. 


252  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

He  ought  to  be  induced  to  go  again,  and  to  go  forever, 
But  now  there  is  no  one  who  cares  —  except  you." 

"I!  why  should  I  care?" 

He  looked  at  her  with  an  expression  of  sudden  compre 
hension. 

"  Why,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  don't  know  ?  " 

"No,"  she  faltered,  shaken  with  a  wild  terroi. 

"  Well,  then,  let  it  go !  I  thought  you  surely  knew. 
But  it  is  better  as  it  is,  perhaps." 

She  was  trembling  in  every  fibre,  her  lips  were  parted, 
and  her  breath  came  fast.  There  was  a  cruel  dismay  and 
horror  in  her  blanching  face. 

"Take  care,"  he  said  hastily.  "Those  people  will 
observe  your  agitation.  You  don't  want  everybody 
speculating,  you  know.  Suppose  we  walk  to  the  end  of 
the  portico  for  a  moment.  It  will  give  you  an  oppor 
tunity  to  recover  your  self-control." 

She  rose  in  silence.  As  he  removed  to  one  side  the 
chair  which  stood  in  her  way,  he  turned  his  head  toward 
the  others  of  the  party.  "  We  are  going  to  get  some  of 
the  Cloth-of-gold  roses,  Mrs.  Kirby,"  he  said.  Then  the 
two  walked  together  down  to  the  end  of  the  portico.  The 
sentimental  old  lady  looked  rather  wistfully  at  Antoinette 
standing  silent  and  motionless  in  the  moonlight,  her  black 
skirt  trailing  in  sombre  contrast  upon  the  white  floor,  and 
observed  Mr.  Brennett's  deferential  care  in  trimming  the 
thorns  from  the  stems  of  the  flowers  before  handing  them 
to  her.  The  tableau  addressed  itself  strongly  to  Mrs. 
Kirby's  imagination,  and  the  hypothetical  romance  she 
sought  to  foster  had  her  best  wishes. 

"  It  is  singularly  unfortunate,"  Brennett  was  saying  in 
low  tones,  "that  I  should  have  chanced  to  broach  that 
subject,  so  calculated  to  disturb  your  peace  of  mind.  But 
let  it  be  as  it  was  before  I  spoke.  Remain  in  ignorance. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  253 

Yon  will  be  happier."  He  still  had  the  flowers  and  his 
penknife  in  his  hand.  He  raised  his  head  slightly,  and 
she  caught  his  swift  glance.  Somehow  she  fancied  he 
looked  to  see  how  she  was  taking  it. 

"  You  are  very  right,"  she  said,  still  in  a  tremor.  "  I 
have  no  desire  to  know.  Pray  don't  mention  it  again." 

His  face  was  half  averted,  but  she  detected  in  it  a  sug 
gestion  of  disappointment.  And  as  she  turned  her  fast- 
filling  eyes  to  the  moonlit  vastness  of  the  battle-field,  all 
blurred  and  swaying  before  her,  she  began  to  under 
stand  the  situation. 

This  was  what  the  newspapers  called  "  black-mail." 

She  had  read  of  such  dastardly  things,  but  they  had 
hardly  seemed  possible.  This  man  and  his  coadjutor, 
Fqrtescue,  had  concocted  together  some  frightful  lie  that 
would  force  money  from  her.  She  had  given  up  at 
last  the  theory  of  an  imposture.  She  now  believed  their 
purpose  grew  out  of  the  fact  that  Fortescue's  case  was  in 
some  way  fatally  defective  and  could  not  stand  in  court. 
Should  she  defy  them,  they  might  find  an  appropriate 
sequel  to  their  scheme  in  breaking  rock  in  the  State 
Prison.  For  she  remembered  having  heard  once  an  inci 
dent  bearing  upon  a  certain  fierce  Tennessee  statute,  by 
which  an  effort  to  extort  money  by  threatening  to  impute 
to  another  an  offence  or  crime  is  made  a  felony,  and  is 
punished  by  five  years'  imprisonment  in  the  penitentiary 
This  man  was  playing  a  desperate  game,  —  more  desperate, 
perhaps,  than  he  knew.  For  one  moment  she  felt  that 
she  could  not  forego  this  revenge.  To  compass  it  she 
could  pursue  them  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Then  her 
characteristic  caution  returned,  with  its  complex  elements 
of  pusillanimity  and  a  just  regard  of  consequences.  This 
lie  involved  some  one  near  and  dear  to  her, — her  father, 
her  mother,  or  how  could  it  be  efficacious  with  her?  And 


254  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

how  could  she  combat  it  ?  They  had  died  in  her  early 
infancy.  She  had  never  known  them.  But  Fortescue 
had  known  them.  Would  his  word  be  more  credible  as 
to  them  in  public  estimation,  or  hers?  That  anything 
disgraceful  to  them  was  true,  she  did  not  believe  for  an 
instant.  But  if  a  specious  lie  were  promulgated  and  not 
disproved,  it  would  be  true  to  the  world.  A  heavy  sense 
of  responsibility  had  descended  upon  her.  It  was  not  for 
herself  alone  that  she  must  act;  it  was  for  those  who 
were  dead,  and  who  could  not  speak. 

If  only  she  had  some  advice !  She  began  to  cast  about 
in  her  mind  as  to  whom  she  might  apply.  There  was  only 
General  Vayne.  On  his  good  faith  and  his  friendship 
she  knew  she  could  rely.  But  he  was  a  man  without 
policy  or  prudence;  his  life  throughout  had  given  evi 
dence  of  this  fact,  and  the  mere  recollection  of  that 
fantastically  rash  episode  at  the  court-house  so  short  a  time 
ago  was  enough  to  deter  her.  The  story  would  be  elicited, 
and  if  General  Vayne  should  look  upon  it  only  as  an 
iniquitous  attempt  to  extort  money  from  her, —  a  helpless 
woman,  and  his  daughter's  guest,  —  proved  or  unproved, 
Maurice  Brennett  would  never  get  out  of  the  town  alive. 
Then  there  would  be  a  great  commotion,  and  the  wicked 
fabrication  would  come  out. 

She  determined  that  never,  if  it  could  be  prevented, 
should  that  lie  be  divulged.  Never  should  it  be  put  into 
words.  Money  was  no  object,  and  it  could  not  be  again, 
except  as  it  might  be  used  to  keep  down  that  black  cal 
umny  which  could  not  be  refuted  now.  She  would  com 
promise,  —  she  would  give  up  anything,  everything,  when 
Temple  Meredith  should  come  to  carry  out  her  wishes. 
He  had  said  that  he  would  be  here  on  the  28th  of  June, 
and  it  was  not  so  far  away.  She  was  aware  that  her 
position,  weak  as  it  was,  had  its  strong  point.  That  cruel 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  255 

lie  would  not  be  made  public  so  long  as  they  hoped  to 
effect  a  compromise  through  its  agency,  held  in  terrorem 
over  her.  Thus  she  could  safely  postpone  taking  action. 

Brennett's  finesse  was  a  weapon  of  which  every  edge 
cut,  but  lie  could  form  no  idea  of  the  depth  of  the  wounds 
left  by  its  keen  strokes  this  time.  She  had  been  startled, 
agitated  at  first.  That  was  only  natural,  and  of  no  special 
import.  Now  she  had  recovered  her  composure ;  and  her 
calmly  inexpressive  face,  as  they  walked  down  the  portico 
to  rejoin  the  others,  gave  him  no  indication  of  the  effect 
of  what  he  had  said,  and  no  augury  as  to  how  it  would 
influence  the  future.  He  could  not  pursue  the  subject. 
Her  reply  had  effectually  closed  it.  He  could  only  wait, 
and  wait  in  doubt. 

After  the  visitors  were  gone,  the  home-circle  sat  some 
time  longer  in  the  moonlight.  Mrs.  Kirby  noticed  that 
Antoinette  was  silent  and  abstracted,  and  when  they  had 
at  last  risen  to  go  within,  she  still  listlessly  lingered 
outside.  The  old  lady,  chancing  to  turn  at  the  door,  saw 
her  at  a  moment  when  she  thought  herself  unobserved; 
it  was  with  a  gesture  of  disdainful  rejection  that  she  was 
throwing  her  flowers  away,  the  fresh  and  beautiful  roses 
which  Maurice  Brennett  had  cut  for  her. 

They  fell  upon  the  bomb-riven  pavement,  and  there  the 
next  day,  when  the  sun  was  hot,  they  withered. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

AND  the  next  day  before  the  sun  was  hot,  his  schemes 
too  showed  signs  of  wilting. 

This  was  a  wonderful  day;  the  sky  had  withdrawn 
itself  to  an  infinite  altitude ;  a  few  fleecy  white  clouds 
raced  with  their  shadows  across  the  wide  expanse  of  the 
battle-field ;  the  green  wheat  shoaled  and  surged  cease 
lessly  with  elusive  silvery  undulations.  On  the  great 
earthworks  the  plums  hung  ripe  and  red,  amid  a  tangled 
profusion  of  blackberries  and  a  mass  of  flowering  vines. 
With  their  redundant,  leafy  growth  of  young  trees,  the 
redoubts  loomed  up  in  abnormal  proportions.  It  was  not 
easy  for  Maurice  Brennett  to  distinguish,  even  with  his 
field-glass,  the  height  of  the  parapet  in  the  midst  of  the 
heavy  foliage.  But  until  he  reached  the  river  he  was 
glancing  about  listlessly  enough,  for  it  was  only  an  evan  • 
escent  Curiosity  which  he  had  chanced  to  express  concern 
ing  the  country  and  its  history,  and  which  had  induced 
Percy  to  offer  to  drive  with  him  over  the  battle-field,  and 
show  all  its  points  of  interest. 

The  river  was  haunted  by  the  odor  of  ferns ;  its  rhyth 
mic  murmured  monody  was  altogether  overborne  by  the 
Voices  of  Percy  and  a  young  acquaintance  whom  he  had 
encountered  on  the  ferry-boat,  and  who  stood,  while  in 
transitu,  with  one  boot  upon  the  hub  of  the  buggy-wheel 
and  persistently  talked  "  horse."  The  conversation  grated 
on  Brennett's  preoccupied  mood,  and,  feigning  an  acces 
256 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT'.  257 

sion  of  interest  in  the  scene  before  him,  he  alighted  from 
the  vehicle,  that  he  might  bring  his  glass  to  bear  upon  the 
massive  isolated  columns  of  masonry  —  the  piers  of  the 
old  turnpike  bridge  —  which  rose  suggestive  and  drear  in 
the  midst  of  the  shining  current. 

Toole  noticed  the  gesture. 

"The  bredge  got  burned  up  in  the  war,  Squair,"  he 
observed  companionably,  nodding  his  great  unkempt, 
tawny  head,  on  the  back  of  which  an  old  straw  hat  was 
precariously  perched. 

Brennett  lowered  the  glass  and  looked  coldly  at  the 
officious  speaker.  Then  he  turned  his  shoulder  with  a 
studied  air  of  inattention,  and  once  more  lifted  the  glass 
to  his  eyes. 

His  manner  might  have  repressed  another  man  in  a 
similarly  low  station,  but  Toole,  in  his  good  nature,  was 
rather  obtuse,  and  continued  with  easy  camaraderie,  for 
he  held  himself  the  equal  in  all  essentials  of  the  "  Squair," 
or  any  other  man. 

"  I  tell  ye  it  sots  a-body  sorter  catawampus  plumb  till 
now  ter  git  ter  studyin'  'bout'n  that  thar  job.  'T  war  the 
reskiest  thing  I  ever  seen  done ;  it  beat  my  tune !  An 
ofPcer  fired  that  thar  bredge  with  his  own  hands,  an'  that 
kem  about  powerful  cur'ous,  'kase  the  ofFcers  ginerally 
gits  the  glory  whilst  the  men  gits  the  resk.  But  I  never 
look  at  them  old  piers  'thout  thinkin'  'bout  that  feller. 
He  was  oz  plucky  ez  the  nex'  one,  an'  the  finest-built  man 
ye  ever  seen.  He  looked  sorter  stavin'  somehows,  an' 
wild,  an'  fiery,  an'  he  hed  sech  eyes  in  his  head  that 
when  he  fixed  'em  on  a-body,  ye  jes'  knowed  ye  was 
bound  ter  mosey,  ef  he  hed  tole  ye  ter  mosey.  I  hed 
Been  him  wunst  afore,  a-ridin'  along  o'  Gen'al  Crespeau 
in  one  o'  his  raids  up  this  ruver ;  he  was  on  the  Gen'al's 
staff." 


258  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

A  strange  thing  had  happened.  The  glass  in  Bren- 
nett's  hand  was  trembling;  his  color  had  changed;  he 
had  slowly  reversed  his  position  and  was  gazing  intently 
at  Toole. 

"The  looks  o'  that  thar  man  is  fairly  welded  in  my 
mind.  I  s'pose  it 's  account  o'  what  he  done  hyar.  We 
hed  been  a-scrimmagin'  some  up  thar  on  Beargrass  Creek,, 
an'  hed  been  cut  up  cornsider'ble,  an'  treated  ginerally  with 
perslimness,  'kase  thar  war  n't  none  sca'cely  of  us.  An'  jes' 
ez  it  was  cleverly  dark,  we  kem  a-dustin',  hickelty  pickel- 
ty,  acrost  this  hyar  old  bredge,  —  on  the  run,  I  tell  ye ! 
They  hed  some  fraish  cavalry  in  pursuit,  what  hed  n't  been 
in  the  fight,  an'  ef  they  could  hev  made  out  ter  foller  us 
acrost  the  ruver  jes'  then,  they'd  a-scooped  the  whole 
bilin'  of  us.  We  hed  the  pruttiest  sorter  chance  o'  bein' 
cut  off  from  the  main  body,  'kase  our  horses  was  too  dead 
beat  ter  travel  another  foot,  an'  our  ammunition  hed  in 
an'  about  gin  out.  That  thar  old  bredge  hed  been  sorter 
perpared  aforehand  ter  burn  in  case  of  a  retreat.  The 
boys  hed  piled  bresh  up  under  the  floorin'  an'  along  the 
sides,  an'  hed  poured  out  some  ile  thar,  but  we  never 
thunk  ez  how  the  Yanks  war  a-goin'  ter  be  so  close  a-hint 
us,  an'  our  time  so  short.  Waal,  when  the  order  was  gin 
ter  fire  it,  some  durned  artillery  o'  theirn  that  hed  got  in 
battery  up  thar  on  Boker's  Knob,  they  seen  the  move,  an" 
they  begun  ter  fling  shell  an'  shot  a  good  piece  this  side 
o'  the  ruver  ter  hender  us  from  gittin'  at  the  bredge.  An' 
they  hed  some  sharp-shooters  thar  that  kem  inter  tiie 
^ame,  an'  they  made  it  look  like  hell  broke  loose  round 
thar  fur  about  two  minits.  We  never  hed  no  fire  balls 
uor  nothink'  ter  throw  ez  was  sartain  ter  sot  the  bredge 
a-burnin'.  The  men  ordered  thar  jes'  hed  ter  trot  down 
under  them  yellin'  shells  an'  singin'  minies,  an'  kindle  up 
the  bresh  with  a  torch,  same  ez  ef  it  was  a  wood  fire  in  a 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  259 

chimbly.  Waal,  they  never  got  thar;  some  was  killed, 
an*  some  was  wounded,  an'  some  jes'  turned  around  an' 
dusted  !  An'  hyar  come  that  cavalry  on  the  other  side,  — • 
ye  could  'a  heard  them  fraish  horses  o'  theirn  a-lopin', 
ef  ye  hed  been  ever  so  fur  off,  it  'peared  like.  In  two 
minits  more  we  'd  'a  hed  'em  'mongst  us,  an'  our  horses 
was  too  dead  beat  ter  travel  another  foot.  Thar  war  n't 
no  time  for  orders  nor  nothink  else.  The  fust  I  knowed 
this  hyar  man  —  a  mighty  suddint  man  he  was  —  he  jes' 
sprung  out  'n  the  dark  somewhar  like  ez  ef  he  'd  been 
flung  from  a  cannon's  mouth.  He  rode !  rode  like  a 
streak  o'  light !  He  went  a-spurrin'  down  ter  the  bredge 
with  a  torch  in  his  hand  flamin'  out  like  a  big,  red  feather. 
An'  when  he  shot  by  me  his  eyes  was  blazin'  in  his  head, 
an'  his  teeth  was  set  close  —  Lord !  how  he  looked !  An' 
did  n't  them  sharp-shooters  pay  him  most  pertic'lar  atten 
tion  when  he  hed  got  a-nigh  that  bredge.  That  torch 
made  him  a  fair  target  fur  'em.  His  horse  was  shot  under 
him  jes'  about  thar,"  he  paused,  and  pointed  with  his  pipe- 
stem.  "  When  I  seen  that  light  sink  I  thought  we  was 
goners.  But  it  did  n't  set  him  back  none.  He  was  up 
agin  in  a  minit  —  an'  walk  !  you  never  seen  a  man  walk 
like  that.  Light  on  his  feet !  for  all  he  was  so  tall  an' 
heavy.  He  walked,  sir,  same  as  a  kildee !  He  hed  the 
furder  e-end  o'  that  bredge  a-roarin'  in  a  second.  He 
fired  it  in  fifty  places.  He  stood  so  long  on  that  middle 
pier,  I  thought  he  'd  be  burned  alive.  All  the  men  was 
shoutin'  ter  him  ter  come  back.  He  got  off  'thout  a  hair 
of  his  head  bein'  teched,  I  hearn.  'T  was  a  meracle  —  a 
plumb  meracle.  Everybody  that  seen  it  said  so.  Why 
the  nex'  day  I  swum  the  ruver  ter  swap  a  few  lies  with 
them  Yankee  pickets  that  we  hed  struck  up  an  acquaint 
ance  with  acrost  the  water,  an'  ter  beg  a  chaw  o'  ter- 
dacco,  an'  smoke  a  pipe  or  two,  sorter  sociable  like,  an* 


260  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

they  was  jes'  a-talkin'  'bout  that  thar  man  an'  how  ha 
acted,  They  said  they  'd  like  ter  git  a-holt  o'  him  fur 
a  minit  or  two  jes'  ter  see  what  he  was  made  out  'n.  I 
tole  'em  ez  how  thar  sharp-shooters  hed  better  load  up 
with  silver  'stead  o'  lead  nex'  time  they  got  a  show  at  that 
thar  kildee  o'  ourn.  His  life  'peared  ter  be  witched. 
But  law !  't  war  n't  more  'n  a  week  arterward  when  I  seen 
him  on  the  groun'  thar  a-nigh  Fort  Despair,  stone  dead ; 
he  was  killed  in  the  big  battle,  shot  through  the  lungs 
and  the  head,  and  half  crushed  by  the  carcass  o'  his  horse. 
I  could  n't  holp  bein'  sorry  ez  the  war  hed  n't  kerried  off 
somebody  ez  was  less  account,  an'  lef  Major  Fortescue. 
That  was  his  name  —  John  Fortescue." 

He  turned  his  slow  eyes  on  his  interlocutor,  and  laughed 
a  little  at  his  own  foolish  sentimentality  about  a  man  he 
had  never  known. 

Brennett  precipitately  raised  the  glass  to  his  face ;  per 
haps  its  expression  was  not  to  be  trusted  even  to  the  slow 
perceptions  of  this  unspeculative  bumpkin.  His  hand 
grew  rigid  with  the  effort  of  his  will  to  still  its  muscles. 
But  his  breath  was  short;  his  lip  was  quivering  and 
white. 

He  might  not  have  attained  even  this  degree  of  self- 
control  had  not  the  vivacious  talk  and  laughter  of  the 
young  men  in  the  buggy  convinced  him  that  Percy  had 
heard  nothing.  But  any  day,  on  their  way  to  or  from 
Chattalla,  the  ferry-man  might  rehearse  the  story.  He 
might  even  tell  it  to  Miss  St.  Pierre.  He  was  familiar 
and  garrulous,  and  his  avocation  kept  him  upon  the  high 
way  ;  otherwise  it  would  hardly  be  possible  that  he  could 
have  ready  speech  of  people  in  their  social  station. 

It  was  only  an  accident  —  no  design  —  that  Brennett 
turned  the  powerful  glass  upon  that  great  flower-decked 
redoubt,  called  Fort  Despair  in  the  years  gone  by.  He 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  261 

had  no  sense  of  what  he  saw.  All  his  faculties  were  bent 
inward.  He  was  striving  to  rally  his  courage,  his  tact, 
his  invention,  but  he  could  only  remember  helplessly  how 
near  success  had  seemed,  how  deeply  for  its  sake  he  had 
involved  himself ;  he  could  only  repeat  again  and  again 
that  the  man  lived  on  the  highway  —  he  lived  on  the 
highway,  and  in  his  very  avocation  he  had  a  constant 
reminder  of  the  burning  of  the  bridge,  else  there  would 
be  no  need  of  a  ferry-boat. 

Brennett  scarcely  heard  Toole's  voice  still  drawling  on : 

"An'  it's  a  cur'us  thing  'bout'n  thatoff'cer;  what  d'ye 
think  happened  hyar  one  night  las'  winter?  Bless  God,  ef 
I  did  n't  'low  fur  a  spell  ez  I  hed  seen  his  ghost !  fur  a  f ack, 
I  did !  Thar  war  a  gentleman  that  kern  from  Gen'al  Vayne'a 
house,  an'  jes'  afore  he  rid  down  onto  the  ferry"  — 

Toole  had  broken  off  abruptly,  —  oddly  enough  at  the 
moment  that  the  field-glass  was  directed  upon  Fort  De 
spair.  And  as  Brennett  became  suddenly  aware  of  this, 
he  was  also  conscious  that  his  motions  were  furtively 
watched.  He  lowered  the  glass  and  looked  curiously  at 
the  ferry-man,  who  drew  down  his  hat  and  averted  his 
face.  His  hold  had  grown  light  upon  the  rope.  There 
was  a  visible  tremor  along  the  sturdy  muscles  of  his  bare, 
sun-embrowned  arms.  The  color  had  deserted  his  tanned 
face,  leaving  it  sickly  and  sallow.  He  seemed  all  at  once 
to  have  grown  gaunt. 

Question  as  he  might,  the  wily  schemer  felt  baffled. 
He  had  no  abstract  interest  in  humanity;  his  keen  and 
insidious  knowledge  of  human  nature  and  motives  had 
been  acquired  by  strictly  utilitarian  processes.  Had  this 
man  not  loomed  up  formidable,  with  his  aimless  reminis 
cence,  Brennett  would  not  have  given  him  and  his  idio 
syncrasies  so  much  as  a  contemptuous  curse.  But  he  saw 
in  him  now  his  destruction  or  his  prey. 


262  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

He  had  received  a  subtle  intimation  that  the  change  in 
Toole's  manner  had  some  connection  with  the  field-glass. 
And  here  was  a  mystery.  This  was  an  illiterate  country 
lout,  with  no  knowledge  of  the  science  of  optics  or  the 
properties  of  concave  and  convex  lenses.  Brennett  under 
stood  at  last,  and  it  struck  him  so  suddenly  that  it  took 
his  breath  away ;  Toole  had  been  a  soldier,  and  was  aware 
of  the  long  range  of  this  implement  as  he  was  aware  of 
the  long  range  of  a  rifle.  And  after  so  many  years,  was 
Fort  Despair,  with  its  embrasures  empty  except  for  the 
nestlings,  with  its  crown  of  flowers,  with  its  summer 
songs,  a  terror  to  him  still  ? 

The  sense  of  power  restored  Brennett.  When  he  lifted 
the  glass  and  casually  surveyed  first  the  piers,  then  the 
far-reaching  perspective  of  the  river,  he  even  had  room 
for  a  calculating  cruelty  of  pleasure  in  Toole's  long-drawn 
sigh  of  relief.  But  Toole  was  forgotten  when  the  glass 
was  again  suddenly  turned  upon  the  redoubt.  Among  the 
scarlet  trumpet-blossoms  and  the  wind-tossed  fruit-trees 
on  the  parapet  the  shadows  were  fitful ;  but  one  was  mo 
tionless —  the  similitude  of  a  man?  —  nay,  the  substance. 
Far,  far  away  the  ploughs  were  running ;  only  a  medita 
tive  cow  stood  here  and  there  in  the  wide  strip  of  uncul 
tivated  land  that  lay,  —  a  series  of  out-cropping  ledges  and 
brambly  tangles,  —  between  the  rifle-pits  of  the  old  picket- 
line  and  the  banks  of  the  river.  He  was  out  of  reach  of 
human  sight;  he  had  baffled  the  law  and  human  ven 
geance  ;  conjecture  had  forgotten  him ;  and  still  he  was 
within  the  compass  of  human  ingenuity.  The  field-glass 
was  so  powerful ;  the  wits  behind  it  were  so  sharp.  And 
surely  it  seemed  a  strange  thing  that  a  full-grown  man, 
a  man  in  poor  garments,  should  be  basking  idly  like  a 
lizard  on  the  red  clay  parapet,  while  all  the  crop  was  "  in 
the  grass,"  and  cotton-scraping  wages  were  rising  with  the 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  263 

thermometer.  He  was  moving  at  last,  —  moving  slowly. 
Could  it  be  that  the  fluttering  of  a  red  bandanna  handker 
chief  with  which  the  ferry-man  mopped  his  brow  was  a 
signal  ? 

The  figure,  —  a  tall,  erect  figure,  —  skulked  stealthily 
along  the  parapet.  Once  it  paused  and  turned;  yes,  it 
was  turning  its  face  toward  the  river.  But  was  the  glass 
so  perfect  ?  Brennett  asked  himself  abruptly.  It  blurred ; 
it  mingled.  Was  there  a  breath  upon  it,  —  the  wing  of  a 
moth,  —  fallen  pollen  from  a  passing  bee  ?  Was  some 
damnable  trifle  to  snatch  from  him  this  moment, — this 
meagre  moment  that  he  craved,  —  of  more  value  than  ten 
years  of  his  life !  The  next  instant  his  sardonic  laughter 
set  the  air  a-shiver.  The  fault  lay  in  God's  handiwork. 
The  blurrings,  the  distortions,  were  in  the  man's  face! 
Ah  !  the  good  glass ! 

"  I  have  come  late  to  Fort  Despair,"  Brennett  said  to 
himself,  as  he  watched  the  figure  drop  down  gradually  out 
of  sight,  "but  not  too  late  for  a  heavy  onslaught  yet." 

A  tumult  of  exultation  surged  within  him.  The  ferry 
man,  with  all  his  brain  a-fire,  with  his  heart  bursting, 
with  his  liberty,  it  might  be,  at  stake,  could  not  see  what 
he  knew  was  lurking  there,  —  could  not  be  sure  what, 
ivith  that  marvellously  extended  faculty  of  vision,  the 
stranger  saw. 

Brennett  was  laughing  still  as  he  turned  to  the  brawny 
fellow  who,  pallid  and  gasping,  feebly  tugged  at  the  rope. 

"  There,"  he  said,  pointing  with  his  field-glass  to  the 
great,  blooming  redoubt,  "  is  the  reason  that  in  the  coun 
try  a  man's  greed  for  gain  is  blunted." 

Toole  stared  at  him  in  amaze  and  said  nothing. 

"  Luxury  is  so  easy  to  come  by.  A  graceless  lout  like 
that,  lying  there  in  the  sun  on  the  parapet  of  Fort  De- 
apair,  would  n't  bestir  himself  for  a  million.  And  I  'm  not 


264  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

BO  sure  he 's  wrong.  He  hears  the  river  sing.  The  wind 
keeps  him  company.  Now  and  then  a  ripe  plum  falls 
in  his  reach.  If  a  snake  conies,  he  makes  great  shift  to 
tli  row  a  stone,  and  dozes.  The  sun  mints  gold  for  him 
all  day.  Give  up  this  wealth  for  a  ploughman's  wages, 
or  the  fourth  of  a  scanty  crop  on  somebody's  acres  ex 
hausted  with  fifty  years  of  cotton-growing  ?  Not  he ! " 

The  boat  was  moving  smoothly  once  more.  The  cords 
on  the  brawny  arms  stood  out  with  renewed  effort. 
Toole  felt  as  if  he  were  laying  hold  again  on  life.  A 
long,  strong  breath  of  relief  was  swelling  his  lungs.  The 
hot  tears  of  pity  for  himself  stood  in  his  eyes. 

"  What  a  pore  fool  I  be,"  he  thought  compassionately. 
"  I  seen  from  the  fust  ez  the  man  bed  a  field-glass,  an' 
was  a-swingin'  it  round  the  country.  An'  I  mus'  git  so 
catawampus  fur  nothink !  An'  he  air  a  stranger  hyar,  an' 
dunno  Graffy  when  he  see  him.  Ef  it  bed  been  anybody 
else,  though !  "  He  trembled  again  at  the  idea. 

"  Not  he !  "  pursued  Brennett.  "  He  looks  at  you  as 
you  pull  this  heavy  boat  back  and  forth,  for  money  and 
the  hope  of  ease  some  day,  and  I  am  afraid  he  laughs. 
Perhaps  he  laughs,  too,  at  Mr.  Percy,  who  professes  to 
be  a  man  of  leisure,  and  who  works  very  hard,  often 
against  great  odds,  to  amuse  himself.  He  does  n't  know 
me,  I  dare  say;  if  he  did,  I  am  sure  he  would  laugh 
at  me." 

"  What  be  your  work ?  "  asked  Toole  inquisitively. 

"  I  might  accurately  define  it  as  '  tempting  Provi 
dence,'  "  said  Brennett. 

Toole  was  a-  trifle  dubious. 

"  I  reckon  we  're  all  in  that  trade,"  be  rejoined  piously. 

Brennett  frowned  in  sudden  irritation ;  he  bad  used 
the  words  as  preliminary  to  an  exposition  of  the  peculiar 
and  excessive  risks  and  anxieties  of  speculating  in  cotton 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  265 

futures.  inadvertently  they  were  too  true.  "Well, 
crack  that  nut,"  he  muttered  contemptuously. 

They  were  nearing  the  land,  and  his  purpose  was 
served.  He  had  succeeded  in  allaying  Toole's  fears  and 
absorbing  his  attention.  Percy  would  never  hear  that 
recital  of  military  experience,  if  Maurice  Brennett  were 
the  man  he  took  himself  for. 

He  was  about  to  return  to  the  buggy,  but  checked 
himself  with  an  after-thought.  It  went  against  the  grain, 
but  it  was  best  to  be  civil. 

"  I  '11  explain  my  operations  in  the  line  of  c  tempting 
Providence '  some  day  as  I  cross  again,"  he  said  agree 
ably.  And,  as  he  stepped  into  the  buggy,  Percy  gathered 
up  the  lines  and  drove  slowly  along  the  steep  bank,  leav 
ing  Toole  looking  placidly  after  them,  marvelling  at  his 
folly  in  having  caused  himself  so  poignant  an  anguish  of 
fright. 

But  they  did  not  continue  their  drive  over  the  battle 
field  to-day.  Brennett  remembered  abruptly  that  there 
were  some  important  papers  to  be  sent  him  by  express, 
and  which  were  already  due.  Thus  it  was  that  before 
the  elusive,  amethystine,  matutinal  haze  had  lifted  from 
the  landscape,  leaving  it  a  trifle  crude  of  color,  they  were 
in  Chattalla.  The  dew  still  gleamed  on  the  leaves  of  the 
sycamore  in  the  court-house  yard;  the  blue-jays  chat 
tered,  and  quarrelled,  and  fairly  fought  in  the  court-house 
windows ;  the  grass  was  high  and  rank.  An  old  darkey 
with  a  scythe  was  listlessly  mowing  it  in  the  intervals  of 
recounting  a  miraculous  story  to  two  small  white  boys, 
who  hung  spell-bound  upon  his  every  word.  A  knot  of 
lawyers  sat  and  talked  amicably  on  the  court-house  steps, 
nothing  suggesting  the  prospective  conflicts  of  the  day 
gave  here  and  there  a  roll  of  legal  cap.  One  of  them,  a 
young  sprig,  was  trying  to  train  a  dog  to  smoke  a  pipe. 


266  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

Some  hill-country  fellows  lay  in  the  grass,  or  stood 
about  under  the  tree,  having  jogged  in  before  day  to  at 
tend  to  business  in  court.  They  bantered  each  other; 
now  and  then  their  jolly  laughter  rang  out.  A  peaceful 
scene  —  almost  pastoral. 

Brennett  and  Percy  gravitated  naturally  toward  it,  for 
the  package  of  papers  had  not  yet  arrived  at  the  express 
office ;  the  sun  was  growing  hot  on  the  paving-stones  of 
the  Square,  and  the  dust  was  rising.  They  lounged 
through  the  gate,  which  clanged  noisily  behind  them  as 
they  made  their  way  to  the  steps.  Percy  was  not  sorry 
when  Brennett  strolled  off  alone,  for  he  had  been  silent, 
or  monosyllabic,  throughout  the  drive,  and  his  host  craved 
livelier  companionship. 

Brennett  had  no  affinity  with  the  lower  strata  of  society 
• — no  good-natured  leniency  for  ignorance,  uncouthness, 
and  shiftless  poverty;  that  he  should  seek  to  join  the 
rough  fellows  under  the  tree,  as  they  joked  the  sheriff 
who  was  canvassing  among  them  for  re-election,  was  in 
itself  so  uncharacteristic  a  thing  that  he  felt  all  the 
awkwardness  incident  to  being  out  of  one's  sphere  as  he 
hazarded  the  remark  — 

"  The  warmest  day  of  the  season,  gentlemen." 

"  That 's  so,"  they  assented  politely. 

His  eye  was  glittering,  excited.  The  delicately  arched 
nostrils  of  his  sharp,  hooked  nose  were  quivering ;  the 
intricate  lines  between  his  eyebrows  were  so  dark  that 
they  seemed  to  have  been  cleverly  traced  there  with  a 
bit  of  charcoal;  the  gracious  sunshine  that  dripped 
through  the  leaves  fell,  as  he  took  off  his  hat  and  fanned 
himself  with  it,  on  those  gray  glimmers  which  should  not 
have  come  so  early  in  his  close-clipped  hair. 

"  Fine  prospect  for  fruit,"  he  said,  addressing  himself 
especially  to  the  sheriff,  a  tall,  well-knit  man,  wearing  a 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  267 

brcrwn  linen  suit,  the  trousers  thrust  into  the  long  legs  of 
a  pair  of  heavy  boots,  which  were  ornamented  with  large 
spurs. 

"  Very  fine,"  assented  the  officer. 

"  I  suppose  you  ship  great  quantities  from  this  county  ?  " 

"  No,  scarcely  any." 

"No —  no,"  drawled  a  robust  young  fellow  with  a 
florid  face,  black  hair,  and  wide,  black  eyes,  who  was 
lying  luxuriously  in  the  grass ;  "  ship  cotton.  That  's 
the  dinctum.  Cotton  's  money  —  mebbe  more  —  mebbe 
less ;  but  cotton  's  money  every  time  !  " 

"  Good  local  market  for  fruit,  then  ?  "  persisted  Bren- 
nett. 

"Why,  no,"  said  the  sheriff;  "because  pretty  much 
everybody  in  town  has  got  a  good  big  garden-spot 
of  his  own,  and  fruit-trees  and  vines  in  plenty ;  we 
ain't  scrimped  for  room,  you  see.  Fruit 's  dirt  cheap 
here." 

"  I  supposed  that  it  would  command  a  fine  price,  as  I 
saw  a  man  gathering  even  the  volunteer  fruit  growing  on 
one  of  those  old  redoubts  not  far  from  the  river." 

"  A-law  !  "  mumbled  a  toothless  sexagenarian,  "  them 
places  air  a-roamiii'  with  the  haunts.  An'  wunst  thar  was 
wusser  sights  yit  ter  be  seen  thar;  they  was  soakin'  with 
blood.  Leastways,  Fort  Despair  was.  I  never  know'd 
thar  was  a  critter  in  the  county  ez  would  tech  fruit  that 
grow'd  out  'n  that  sile." 

"Fort  Despair  —  that  is  the  name,"  said  Brennett, 
laughing  a  little ;  "  it  is  near  the  river  —  in  a  line  with 
the  ferryman's  house." 

For  some  reason  which  Brennett  could  not  divine,  the 
other  men  glanced  down,  a  trifle  uneasily,  at  the  young 
fellow  in  the  grass.  His  face  was  smitten  by  some  strong 
emotion ;  he  lay  quite  still,  his  wide,  black  eyes,  suddenly 


268  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

full  of  an  untranslated  meaning,  turned  absently  up  to 
the  sky. 

"  And,"  thought  Brennett,  "  to  talk  of  ignorance ! " 
That  these  men,  these  louts,  should  have  something  in 
their  minds  which  it  might  ruin  him  not  to  know !  He  ex 
perienced  an  unreasoning  anger  that  their  lives  should  be 
less  transparent  than  they  seemed ;  that  he  should  grope 
blindly  among  them;  that,  at  this  crisis,  he  should  be 
hampered  by  those  complex  elements  of  hidden  sensitive 
ness,  and  heart-history,  and  mental  drama,  which  con 
sonantly  make  up  life  in  worthier  spheres.  Under  the 
influence  of  this  irritation,  he  grew  all  at  once  bold  and 
fluent.  "  I  dare  say,"  he  remarked,  with  a  laugh,  "  the 
volunteer  fruit  is  the  ferryman's  orchard.  I  noticed  him 
signal  with  a  red  handkerchief,  as  we  were  crossing  the 
river,  to  the  man  gathering  plums  on  the  fort."  He  had 
replaced  his  hat ;  he  was  filliping  the  ash  from  the  cigar 
in  his  hand  ;  he  was  turning  away.  "  Very  odd  —  the 
face  of  that  man  on  the  fort  —  very  odd." 

A  grip  like  a  vise  fell  upon  his  arm.  He  was  suddenly 
shaken  —  shocked.  He  looked  down  at  the  sheriff's 
hand. 

"  Take  it  off,"  he  said,  between  his  set  teeth,  "  or,  by 
the  Lord,  I  '11  cut  it  off." 

"  How  was  the  man's  face  odd  ?  "  gasped  the  officer,  in 
the  breathless  interval  of  roaring  to  a  negro  boy  to  bring 
his  horse. 

He  had  scarcely  relaxed  his  hold,  but  Brennett  accom 
modated  himself  to  it,  remembering  the  crisis. 

"I  can't  say  exactly,"  he  replied,  trembling  a  little; 
"  some  curious  facial  distortion  —  he  mowed  like  an 
diot." 

The  grip  slid  from  his  arm. 

"  A  marked  man  in  a  thousand ! "  exclaimed  the  officer 


WHEKE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  269 

"  But  you  ought  to  know  that  stealing  a  little  fruit  is 
only  technically  a  misdemeanor;  there  would  surely  be 
no  prosecutor  for  such  a  trespass  as  that,"  remarked  the 
innocent  Mr.  Brennett. 

"  Trespass  !  This  is  murder,"  said  the  sheriff  gravely. 
He  took  a  warrant  from  his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  a 
deputy,  who  galloped  off  at  a  tremendous  rate  of  speed 
across  the  stony  Square. 

Brennett  changed  color.  He  had  not  supposed  it  so 
serious  as  this.  Still  it  did  not  touch  him. 

The  young  man,  at  whom  they  had  all  looked  doubt 
fully  upon  the  mention  of  the  ferryman,  still  lay  on  the 
grass,  his  head  supported  on  his  arms.  He  had  grown 
pale ;  the  shadows  flickered  over  his  face ;  his  eyes  were 
dilated  as  if  they  saw  more  or  less  than  was  before 
them. 

"  It  hev  come  at  last,"  he  cried  passionately,  "  I  knew 
"t  would.  But  it  ain't  brung  no  comfort.  All  the  law  in 
the  land  can't  set  my  brother's  plough  a-runnin',  and  let 
his  mother  hear  him  singin'  at  his  work.  It  can't  gin  him 
back  a  minit  ter  think  on  the  Lord  afore  he  went  so  sud- 
dint  ter  jedgment.  It  can't  hender  the  grass  from  a-grow- 
in'  on  his  grave,  an'  his  folks  from  furgittin'  him.  I  feel 
him  slippin',  slippin'  away  day  arter  day ;  an'  afore  his 
fish-traps  is  rotten,  an'  his  gun  bar'l  is  rusty,  he  '11  be  clar 
gone  —  the  very  thought  of  him  —  off'n  the  face  o'  the 
yearth  !  An'  somebody  else  will  live  up  all  them  years  of 
time  the  Lord  medjured  out  fur  his  space  in  the  worl'." 
He  turned  his  face  upon  his  elbow  and  said  no  more. 

The  men  who  had  crowded  up  to  the  scene  of  excite 
ment  shrank  away  from  him  after  this  outburst.  But  it 
gave  Brennett  an  instant  to  recover  himself.  And  he 
recovered  himself  with  a  sharp  pang  of  disappointment. 
Of  what  avail  was  all  this  to  him  —  he  had  no  purpose  to 


270  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

serve  by  the  incarceration  of  the  man  who  mowed  like  an 
idiot  among  the  florescent  splendors  of  Fort  Despair. 

He  looked  at  the  prosecutor,  prone  upon  the  ground. 
He  looked  at  the  sheriff.  The  official  had  arranged  with 
a  deputy  to  open  court  —  he  was  about  to  mount.  Had 
he  taken  no  note  of  that  significant  statement  concerning 
the  ferryman's  signalling  ^ed  handkerchief?  There  was  only 
a  moment  for  Brennett,  or  all  his  finesse  might  yet  be  in 
vain  —  even  now  an  officer  was  riding,  like  the  wind,  miles 
away.  His  haste  and  anxiety  to  assure  himself  that  his 
craft  had  taken  effect,  impaired  for  a  moment  his  judg 
ment. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  not  be  wanted  here,"  he  said,  "  un 
less  a  warrant  is  sworn  out  against  Toole  as  accessory  after 
the  fact." 

The  sheriff  cast  upon  him  a  swift  glance  of  suspicion 
and  disapproval. 

"Toole  will  be  taken,"  he  said  tartly,  "according  to 
the  law  which  allows  a  sheriff,  knowing  a  felony  has  been 
perpetrated,  and  having  good  ground  for  suspicion,  to 
make  an  arrest  without  a  warrant.  You  '11  be  needed  to 
testify  on  the  committing  trial."  Then  he  mounted  and 
rode  away. 

"  Blest,"  he  said,  "  if  that  soft-spoken  dandy  chap  ain't 
trying  to  learn  Joe  Bates  his  business  !  Mighty  keen  for 
Tom  not  to  be  left  out  in  the  cold,  sure.  Holds  some  kind 
of  grudge  against  the  pore  fellow,  I  reckon." 

The  incidents  of  the  day  had  jarred  terribly  upon  Percy, 
making  dissonant  havoc  among  the  scherzo  harmonies,  of 
which  his  life  was  composed.  He  had  hastily  joined  Bren 
nett  upon  observing  the  excitement  in  the  crowd,  and  in 
helpless  amaze  discovered  that  his  friend  was  the  main 
spring  of  the  commotion. 

"  Damn  it,  Brennett."  he  cried  fretfully,  as  the  sheriff 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  271 

rode  off,  leaving  them  alone,  "  your  eyes  are  too  sharp.  I 
saw  nothing  when  we  were  crossing  the  river.  You  can't 
expect  me  to  stay  here  and  hear  your  testimony.  I  '11  go 
to  the  hotel  and  wait  for  you  there.  If  you  want  me  you 
can  send  for  me.  I  would  'nt  see  Graffy  or  Toole  either, 
for  a  million,  though  I  dare  say  nothing  very  horrible  will 
come  of  it.  Rumor  goes  that  the  shooting  was  self-defence. 
But  these  things  shock  me,  —  they  make  me  ill." 

Percy  was  a  punctilious  host.  This  grating,  disagree 
able  accident,  as  he  construed  it,  had  thoroughly  dis 
gusted  him  with  his  friend ;  yet  he  looked  deprecatingly 
at  Brennctt,  while  avowing  an  intention  of  deserting  him, 
a  stranger  in  the  town,  and  a  guest,  in  the  unpleasant  epi 
sode  of  testifying  in  a  criminal  case.  If  Brennett  had 
urged  an  objection  he  would  have  repressed  his  finical 
delicacy,  and  sat  out  the  proceedings. 

The  rejoinder  surprised  him  beyond  measure.  Bren 
nett  seemed  to  have  taken  no  notice  of  the  breach  of 
hospitality.  "  Self-defence,"  he  repeated.  "  Then  it  may 
not  be  impossible  to  procure  bail." 

"  Drop  it,  Brennett,  drop  the  unsavory  subject.  I  shall 
dream  of  jails,  and  pining  prisoners,  and  bolts  and  bars,  for 
a  week.  Poor  Toole  —  it 's  hard  on  an  active  fellow  like 
that." 

"  You  would  not  go  on  his  bail-bond  ?"  asked  Brennctt, 
with  a  look  singularly  like  an  expression  of  apprehension. 

"  Not  unless  I  want  to  be  beat  out  of  several  thousand 
dollars  the  quickest  in  this  world  —  those  men  are  in  a 
panic  —  no  obligation  would  have  any  weight  with  them. 
Can't  you  drop  the  subject?"  Percy  added  frowningly. 
"  Are  we  to  stand  here  and  gloat  over  the  details  all  clay." 

He  looked  angrily  and  doubtfully  at  his  friend.  Was 
Brennett  coarse  enough  to  enjoy  an  excitement  like  this  ? 
Did  he  relish  his  r6le  in  the  painful  and  pitiful  little 


272  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

drama?  Did  he  have  no  natural,  unreasoning,  foolish, 
humane  regret,  that  he  should  be  the  chosen  instrument  of 
vengeance,  to  work  justice,  perhaps,  but  woe,  and  horror, 
and  despair,  in  those  humble  lives  ?  His  face  was  thought 
ful,  his  eyes  downcast ;  he  seemed  revolving  some  mighty 
mental  puzzle ;  he  hardly  noticed  Percy,  and  for  the  first 
time  it  struck  the  young  fellow  that  he  did  not  altogether 
understand  this  man.  "I  wish  you  were  in  New  Orleans, 
where  I  found  you!"  Percy  thought  with  inhospitable 
discontent. 

"  I  am  going,  Brennett,"  he  added  aloud.  "  You  '11  know 
where  to  send  for  me  if  you  want  me." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  other. 

As  Percy  turned  hastily  away  he  almost  fell  over  the 
man  lying  in  the  grass. 

"  Ah,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said. 

The  man  lifted  the  arm  he  had  thrown  over  his  face. 
Percy  recognized  the  prosecutor  and  went  on  with  a 
shudder. 

He  did  not  leave  the  hotel  again  during  the  day ;  he 
had  no  idea  how  it  had  passed,  for,  as  he  and  his  friend 
drove  out  of  the  town  close  upon  twilight,  he  asked  no 
question.  The  first  intimation  of  the  result  was  given 
him  when  they  reached  the  river  —  it  lay  broad  and  red 
beneath  the  broad  red  sky;  the  ferry-boat,  a  dark  blotch 
upon  its  brilliance,  close  in  to  the  bank,  pulsed  with  the 
crimson  current.  But  the  craft  was  a  useless  thing  to-day, 
for  no  one  was  there.  Percy  glanced  up  at  the  weather- 
beaten  log-cabin,  the  poor  and  humble  neighbor  of  the 
flaunting  and  splendid  redoubt. 

"  No  good  in  calling,"  said  Brennett,  with  a  short,  satiric 
laugh.  "  He  won't  hear  you.  We  shall  have  to  try  the 
ford.  It  is  six  miles  higher  up  the  river,  somebody  told 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  273 

"  The  nearest  safe  ford  is  ten  miles  higher,"  said  Percy, 
as  he  turned  the  horses. 

"It  won't  last  long,"  Brennett  remarked  cheerfully. 
"  The  superintendent  has  been  telegraphed  —  so  I  am  told 
—  and  has  replied  that  another  ferryman  will  be  here  to 
morrow." 

Their  new  route  took  them  in  front  of  the  little  weather- 
beaten  house.  There  was  a  "  washing  "  still  hanging,  late 
though  it  was,  on  the  clothes  line ;  a  group  of  huddled 
children,  with  a  pale  fright  on  their  faces,  stood  in  the 
door ;  a  baby,  in  a  tattered  red  dress,  sat  on  the  floor  and 
bleated  fitfully ;  a  woman,  with  yellow  hair,  that  hung 
loose  about  her  shoulders  and  fluttered  in  the  wind,  was 
walking  back  and  forth,  ceaselessly,  tearlessly,  striking 
her  hands  together  as  she  walked,  saying  no  word,  making 
no  moan. 

Percy  hastily  averted  his  eyes.  He  gave  the  off-horse 
a  stinging  cut  with  the  whip,  and  the  dreary  little  house 
and  its  splendid  neighbor  were  in  the  fainting,  fading 
distance. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IT  was  fine  "growing  weather"  for  the  cotton,  and  in 
these  hot  days  the  Midas-touch  of  the  sun  had  turned 
the  wheat-fields  to  gold.  From  their  midst  the  verdure- 
crowned  earthworks  rose  like  some  gigantic  basso-rilievo 
in  green  enamel.  A  fierce  thunder-shower  one  afternoon 
had  laid  the  dust  and  beaten  the  soft  dirt-road,  that  swept 
in  serpentine  curves  through  the  peaceful  battle-field, 
into  the  ideal  road  for  equestrians.  Marcia,  with  one  of 
her  brothers,  found  a  wonderful  exhilaration  in  a  smooth, 
swift  dash  through  the  freshness  and  perfume  of  the  red 
sunset.  They  drew  rein  only  when  they  had  reached  the 
boundary  of  their  father's  land  and  were  about  to  turn 
their  horses'  heads  homeward.  She  made  some  haste  to 
do  this,  for  where  the  plantation  road  struck  into  the 
turnpike  she  saw  Estwicke  riding  along  in  the  direction 
of  the  barracks.  He  had  evidently  not  intended  to  call 
fit  General  Vayne's  on  the  way — but  now  his  hand  hesi 
tated  on  the  rein,  and  she  indignantly  deprecated  that  a 
chance  meeting  should  force  him  into  an  attention  which 
he  had  not  contemplated.  He  had  been  there  only  once 
since  the  fishing  excursion,  making  a  short  and  formal 
call.  She  had  not  understood  his  stiff  manner,  and  it 
induced  a  responsive  constraint. 

"  Oh,  no,  Dick,"  she  said  urgently  to  her  urchin  escort, 
who  at  this  moment  expressed  an  inopportune  desire  to 
ride  down  to  the  river  to  see  whether  a  boy  who  was  fish- 
274 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE    WAS    FOUGHT.  275 

ing  on  the  bank  had  caught  anything,  "  I  can't  wait,  and 
you  must  take  me  home." 

Estwicke  had  put  the  whip  to  his  horse  and  galloped 
up  in  time  to  hear  Dick's  protest.  "  Let  me  take  your 
place,"  he  said  agreeably.  Then  to  Marcia  —  "I  suppose 
you  will  grant  me  the  right  of  way  through  these  fields 
with  you." 

She  assented  with  an  effort  at  smiling  ease.  But  she 
was  so  habitually  sincere  that  the  slightest  duplicity  was 
deeply  marked  by  contrast  on  her  face  and  loudly  adver 
tised  itself  a  fraud.  This  evident  artificiality  furnished 
Estwicke  with  a  subject  of  meditation,  and  for  a  few 
moments  both  were  silent  as  they  rode  on  together,  leav 
ing  Dick  far  behind  on  the  bank  of  the  river. 

Estwicke  was  summarily  roused  from  his  preoccupa 
tion. 

"  Is  n't  that  a  dangerous  horse  for  you  to  ride  ?  "  he 
asked,  with  the  vicarious  fright  of  a  lover,  as  Hotspur 
shied  suddenly. 

Now,  if  any  other  lady  had  been  mounted  upon  this 
animal,  Estwicke  would  doubtless  have  considered  him 
sufficiently  gentle,  for  although  young  and  a  trifle  freakish, 
he  was  evidently  of  a  mild  and  tractable  disposition,  and 
well  enough  trained.  Horse  and  rider  each  embellished 
the  other.  Estwicke  had  a  vivid  realization  that  in  her 
black  habit  and  hat  she  was  handsomer  than  ever,  and  he 
was  forced  to  admit  that  she  rode  with  consummate  grace 
and  skill.  Nevertheless  he  fully  expected  to  see  her 
thrown ;  his  heart  was  in  his  mouth ;  a  cold  chill  shot 
through  every  fibre ;  his  hand  was  ready  to  catch  the  rein. 
He  was  irritated  to  observe  that  she  was  flattered  by  what 
Jie  had  said,  and  he  divined  that  she  thought  it  augured 
special  virtues  of  horsewomanship  to  hold  in  subjection  so 
insurgent  and  dangerous  a  spirit. 


276  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  exclaimed,  with  her  wonted  tone  and 
manner,  "  Hotspur  is  w-i-i-ld  as  he  can  be !  You  ought 
just  to  see  him  in  one  of  his  tantrums !  He  threw  me 
last  week,  but  it  is  n't  often  that  he  can  get  me  out  of  the 
saddle." 

Estwicke  was  aghast  at  this  "often."  He  could  not 
altogether  restrain  his  feeling. 

"  It  surprises  me,"  he  said,  with  more  truth  than  tact, 
"  that  General  Vayne  should  allow  his  only  daughter  to 
risk  herself  on  a  vicious  brute  like  that." 

She  flushed  with  some  anger.  She  was  half  disposed 
to  retort  that  General  Vayne  was  popularly  supposed  to 
be  able  to  manage  his  family  affairs  without  assistance  — 
only  by  an  effort  she  withheld  this  thrust. 

"His  only  daughter,"  she  quoted,  laughing.  "If  he 
had  five  or  six  I  suppose  you  would  think  him  justifiable 
in  letting  some  of  them  break  their  necks.  It  never 
occurred  to  me  before  that  the  reason  papa  thinks  so  much 
of  me  is  because  there  are  so  few  of  me." 

"  I  wish  he  would  n't  let  you  ride  that  horse,"  persisted 
Estwicke  gravely. 

"  Oh,  if  you  think  Hotspur  is  wild  now,  I  don't  know 
what  you  would  have  said  about  him  last  summer.  He 
had  been  out  to  pasture  —  he  hadn't  seen  a  saddle  for 
months.  Papa  wouldn't  let  me  mount  him  then.  He 
was  so  frisky  I  did  n't  see  how  I  should  ever  get  him  quiet. 
The  men  would  n't  plough  with  him,  for  he  was  so  fretful ; 
papa  was  away  most  of  the  time,  and  therefore  could  n't 
•ide  him.  So  Mr.  Percy  took  him  home  and  rode  him 
every  day  for  two  weeks." 

This  turn  to  the  conversation  touched  other  feelings. 
Their  sensitiveness  was  manifested  in  the  rejoinder, 
"Obliging  Mr.  Percy!"  uttered  with  unmistakable  sa*» 
casm. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  277 

Again  her  flush  deepened  to  an  angry  glow.  "  He  is 
always  obliging,"  she  said  —  "  and  —  amiable." 

Estwicke  was  minded  to  turn  his  horse  and  gallop  away, 
leaving  Hotspur  to  kill  her  if  he  would.  Somehow  he 
could  not  go ;  he  remained,  but  he  remained  to  retort. 

"  No  doubt ! "  he  exclaimed  bitterly.  "  And  in  recog 
nition  of  his  grace  of  character,  I  suppose,  you  named  your 
horse  — '  Hotspur.' " 

He  was  a  soldier  and  a  brave  man.  But  he  was  flinch 
ing  with  abject  terror  the  moment  after  he  spoke.  She 
wheeled  her  horse,  and  as  she  faced  him  suddenly,  her 
beautiful  eyes  full  of  surprise,  she  demanded  aggressively — 

"Now  what  was  that?" 

"  Nothing  —  nothing.  Don't  ask  me  to  repeat  it," 
Estwicke  pleaded. 

"  I  must  know,"  she  rejoined.  "  I  think  I  understood 
you,  but  I  am  not  certain.  May  I  ask  you  to  do  me  the 
favor  of  repeating  and  explaining." 

This  was  said  with  an  elaborate  show  of  politeness,  but 
it  savored  rather  of  the  punctilio  of  the  duello  than  of 
kindly  Christian  courtesy. 

He  hesitated  and  quailed  before  his  formidable  adver 
sary.  Now  that  he  was  called  upon  to  put  into  words  the 
theory  over  which  he  had  brooded  through  the  dark  hours 
of  sleepless  nights,  he  began  to  realize  how  fantastic  it 
was.  Somehow  he  could  find  no  words  foolish  enough  to 
fit  it.  But  he  must  answer. 

"  Miss  Vayne,"  he  said  helplessly,  laying  his  hand  upon 
Hotspur's  forelock,  "  let  me  off.  Let  me  off  —  just  this 
time." 

"  I  want  to  know  what  you  said,"  she  replied  sternly. 

Estwicke  felt  that  it  was  futile  to  temporize. 

"Well,"  he  began  in  great  abasement,  "the  horse  is 
named  Hotspur,  you  know." 


278  WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

A  pause  ensued.  Her  eyes  widened.  "  Yes,  I  know," 
she  interpolated  by  way  of  giving  his  confession  a  much 
needed  impetus. 

"And  Percy's  name  is  Percy,"  continued  Estwicke, 
painfully  aware  of  seeming  to  drivel.  The  astonishment 
in  her  face  nerved  him  to  try  to  brace  this  impalpable 
fabric  of  the  imagination  with  an  historical  back-bone. 

"  And  you  know  there  's  that  fellow  from  Northumber 
land —  Percy  —  don't  you  know?  —  Harry  Percy —  Hot 
spur." 

Her  softly  scornful  laughter  cut  him  as  cruelly  as  a 
knife  might  have  done.  The  color  in  her  cheeks  mounted 
to  the  roots  of  her  hair.  "  I  do  homage  to  your  ingenuity," 
she  exclaimed  with  a  sarcasm  intended  to  be  withering. 
"  It  is  equally  creditable  to  your  heart  and  head !  I  have 
the  pleasure  of  hoping  that  your  speculations  about  me, 
and  my  horse,  and  my  motives  have  served  to  amuse  you 
for  an  idle  half  hour  or  so." 

She  looked  him  full  in  the  eyes  as  she  spoke,  with  her 
head  erect,  and  a  proud  resentment  eloquently  expressed 
in  her  face.  Then  she  shook  the  reins,  and  her  horse 
sprang  away  like  an  unleashed  hound. 

She  evidently  wished  to  be  rid  of  Estwicke.  But  he 
could  not  let  her  go  now.  He  kept  his  horse  side  by  side 
with  hers,  and  as  they  came  with  a  rush  past  Fort  Despair 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  Hotspur's  rein,  and  checked  the 
impetuous  gallop.  She  turned  her  head  with  an  angry 
impatience.  There  were  hot  tears  in  her  eyes.  They 
should  not  fall  —  they  would  never  fall.  But  there  they 
wei  e  —  and  he  had  seen  them. 

"  I  must  speak  to  you,"  he  said  beseechingly.  "  If  you 
are  angry  it  will  break  my  heart.  Tell  me  you  are  not. 
Forgive  me  if  you  were." 

A  moment  ago  she  was  vowing  that  he  should  never 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   AVAS   FOUGHT.  279 

hear  her  speak  another  word.  Now  she  determined  to 
throw  off  the  whole  affair  lightly ;  she  would  not  allow 
him  and  Percy,  and  her  horse's  name  as  connected  with 
them,  to  seem  matters  of  such  importance.  But  she 
could  not  tell  him  she  was  not  angry ;  she  would  not  say 
she  forgave  him. 

"You  certainly  stand  in  wholesome  awe  of  my  dis 
pleasure,"  she  returned,  with  a  forced  laugh.  "It  is  a 
fearful  thing,  I  know,  but  it  has  killed  no  one  as  yet." 

"  It  will  kill  me,"  Estwicke  protested,  with  inopportune 
fervor ;  "  for  no  one  loves  you  —  no  one  can  ever  love  you 
—  as  I  do." 

Her  eyes  flashed.  "  Captain  Estwicke,"  she  exclaimed 
hotly,  "  let  my  horse  go." 

"One  moment  —  just  hear  me  for  one  moment.  You 
will  do  me  a  cruel  injustice  if  you  refuse  to  listen  now. 
Since  Percy  came,  even  long  before  he  came,  that  fancy 
about  the  horse's  name  has  tortured  me  night  and  day.  I 
have  loved  you  all  my  life,  it  seems  to  me,  for  I  never 
lived  until  I  loved  you.  I  have  given  you  all  my  heart 
It 's  nothing  to  give,  since  you  don't  care  for  it ;  but  it 's 
all  I  have.  And  I  want,  in  return,  one  wuH  of  forgive 
ness  —  one  word." 

Her  face  was  turned  away ;  he  could  only  see  the 
downward  sweep  of  her  eyelashes  and  the  delicate  curve 
of  her  crimson  cheek.  He  leaned  forward  wistfully, 
with  his  hand  still  on  her  horse's  rein,  and  all  his  fiery 
heart  in  his  eyes.  She  slowly  turned  her  head  yet  fur 
ther,  and  still  he  saw  only  those  gentle  suggestions  of  the 
beauty  of  that  averted  face. 

"  It  is  hard  on  me !  "  he  broke  out  despairingly,  after  a 
moment.  "I  have  so  sedulously  repressed  my  feelings. 
I  have  stood  guard  over  every  word  I  uttered  —  so  afraid 
Df  speaking  too  soon  or  at  an  inopportune  moment.  I 


280  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT. 

have  eaten  out  my  heart  by  slow  degrees;  and  aow  — 
now  —  I  have  angered  you  beyond  endurance,  and  you 
cannot  forgive  me." 

Still  not  a  word. 

"  I  Ve  got  what  I  deserve,  though,"  he  continued  bit 
terly,  after  another  pause,  in  which  there  were  quick 
changes  of  expression  on  his  face.  "  It  is  a  sort  of  stern 
justice  that  I  should  find  you  unrelenting  —  you,  on 
whom  I  have  no  claim ;  for  I  have  been  hard,  and  cruel, 
and  unresponsive  when  there  was  the  strongest  claim 
upon  me." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  she  said  suddenly. 

"  Oh,  God  bless  you  for  that,"  he  exclaimed,  clasping 
one  of  the  little  gauntleted  hands. 

She  had  not  intended  to  speak ;  she  had  not  intended 
to  forgive  him  at  all.  She  drew  her  hand  from  his  grasp, 
but  slowly  and  gently. 

"  Don't  you  forgive  me  now  ? "  he  persisted.  "  You 
could  n't  have  said  that,  if  you  did  n't  forgive  me." 

Her  face  was  still  averted.     "  Well  —  perhaps." 

"  Then  look  at  me  — just  once." 

She  did  not  turn  her  head ;  she  still  sat  motionless. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said,  retaining  his  grasp  upon  her  horse's 
rein,  "  is  there  some  one  whom  you  like  better  than  me  ? 
Does  he  keep  us  apart  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  stand  here  any  longer,"  she  exclaimed 
suddenly,  turning  her  flushed  and  embarrassed  face  toward 
the  great,  grim  house  in  the  midst  of  the  plain,  the  re 
flected  sunset  gorgeously  emblazoned  on  its  shattered 
windows. 

He  still  held  the  horse.  "  Is  it  Percy  ?  "  She  made  a 
gesture  of  impatience. 

"Then  don't  you  care  for  me  a  little — just  a  little 
you  know?" 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  283 

"That's  just  what  I  don't  know."  She  laughed,  but 
the  next  moment  she  was  flushing,  and  trembling,  and 
ready  to  cry. 

"  Then,  some  day  —  some  day,  soon,  may  I  tell  you 
again  that  I  love  you,  and  hear  what  you  have  to  say  to 
me  then  ?  " 

"  I  can't  stay  here  any  longer,"  she  declared  evasively. 

As  they  rode  slowly  along,  Estwicke  looked  at  her  and 
sighed.  "That  day,"  he  said,  "you  know  the  day  I 
mean,  I  must  tell  you  something  more  —  the  great 
trouble  and  haunting  sorrow  of  my  life.  Something 
painful  and  cruel  to  tell." 

"  Then  don't  tell  it  to  me,"  she  replied  gently. 

"I  was  in  fault  throughout,"  he  continued.  "I  was 
hard,  and  cowardly,  and  ungenerous,  and  petty-minded. 
Oh,  I  don't  know  anybody  who  would  have  done  as 
I  did." 

She  said  nothing,  but  there  was  a  stony  incredulity 
expressed  in  her  face. 

"I  am  afraid  to  tell  you  —  to  jeopardize  every  hope. 
Yet  I  cannot  endure  that  you  should  think  me  different 
from  what  I  am.  Sometimes,  when  fellows  are  friendly 
and  make  much  of  me,  I  feel  like  a  fraud.  I  wonder 
what  they  would  have  done  in  my  place,  and  I  wonder 
what  they  would  think  of  me  if  they  knew  all.  But  I 
don't  care  for  them.  With  you  it's  different.  I  can't 
deceive  you.  You  ought  to  know  how  I  might  come  out 
if  anything  should  happen  to  try  me  hard.  I  will  tell 
you,  and  let  you  judge." 

"  You  need  tell  me  nothing ! "  she  cried  impetuously. 
"  I  can  trust  you  without  it." 

"  If  I  only  deserved  this !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  But  if  you 
can  believe  in  me  against  my  own  word,  can't  you  care 
for  me  —  even  a  little  ?  " 


282  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

She  rode  on  silently. 

He  leaned  forward  and  once  more  clasped  her  hand. 

"  Or  rather,  dearest,  let  me  take  it  for  granted." 

"  For  the  sake  of  argument,"  she  assented  doubtfully. 

And  the  sun  went  down  over  Fort  Despair,  and  in  all 
the  east  there  was  no  moon.  The  long-waning  brightness 
had  fled  from  the  battle-field ;  it  lay  now  dim,  and  drear, 
and  colorless,  beneath  the  vast,  vague  sky.  The  fort 
was  beleaguered  by  a  multitude  of  shadows.  The  wind 
brought  strange  voices  from  out  the  haunted  thickets. 
A  shiver  ran  through  the  flowers  and  grasses  that  hung 
above  the  yawning,  empty  graves.  A  bugle's  resonance 
was  thrilling  along  the  air.  The  still  evening  palpitated 
with  the  throb  of  the  drum.  The  tread  of  martial  feet 
shook  the  ground.  And  all  unheeding  —  here  where  the 
battle  was  fought  —  youth,  and  love,  and  life  rode 
bravely  through  the  spectred  twilight. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

rpHERE  was  a  flag  flying  over  Chattalla;  the  "old 
-L  flag,"  thus  called  in  contradistinction  to  another, 
that  had  once  flashed  across  the  clouds  here  and  was 
gone  like  a  meteor.  The  Square  was  filled  with  an  eager 
and  intent  crowd  of  recently  re-enfranchised  and  intelli 
gent  voters;  the  grass  in  the  court-house  yard  was 
trampled  by  many  jostling  feet ;  a  rude  platform  had 
risen  among  the  dappling  shadows,  and  the  figure  there, 
with  its  imposing  dignity  and  impressive  attitude,  might 
realize  to  the  imagination  a  Roman  senator.  His  fine 
voice  filled  the  wide  spaces  of  the  sunlit  air ;  the  glance 
of  his  earnest  eyes  kindled  a  responsive  enthusiasm;  a 
magnetic  thrill  quivered  through  his  audience.  Only 
Maurice  Brennett,  of  all  the  fellow-citizens  whom  Gen 
eral  Yayne  harangued,  was  analytic  enough  to  find  him 
a  study,  arid  sufficiently  discriminating  to  perceive  how 
very  amusing  he  was.  He  hurled  back,  with  infinite 
gusto,  insinuations  against  his  party  —  his  people.  He 
visibly  joyed  in  his  elocutionary  bitterness.  He  stormily 
counselled  mildness,  calmness,  conservatism,  above  all, 
consistency.  His  apostrophe  to  the  flag  that  waved  above 
them  was  oddly  accented  by  an  unconscious  convulsive 
gesture,  as  if  he  would  clasp  his  missing  right  hand.  "  It 
was  to  Us,"  he  said,  "  the  symbol  of  a  hard- won  Victory, 
of  a  generous  Peace,  and  of  Freedom  in  the  largest  sense 
known  to  the  universe."  The  fervor  of  his  sincerity 

283 


284  WHEBE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

caught  in  the  crowd,  and  flamed  out  in  cheers  for  the 
old  flag  for  the  first  time  in  ten  years.  Despite  the  wild 
incongruities  of  his  patriotism,  there  was  so  splendid  a 
display  of  oratory  here  and  there,  that  Brennett's  cynical 
face  was  more  than  once  smitten  with  sudden  gravity. 
His  faculty  for  the  utilitarian  fixed  upon  this  gift.  "  If 
that  man,"  he  said  to  Percy,  "  had  even  a  modicum  of 
common  sense  he  could  do  anything  —  anything." 

But  presently  his  lips  were  curving  again,  for  General 
Vayne  was  vaunting  the  great  Volunteer  State,  and  the 
language  was  depleted  of  adjectives.  He  alluded  to  her 
hosts  of  "  Fighting  Tennesseeans,"  and  called  upon  the 
heights  of  Monterey,  upon  Old  Hickory's  "  mile-long 
line  "  at  New  Orleans,  upon  the  "  Battle  of  the  Horse 
shoe,"  upon  their  blood  that  deluged  Shiloh,  the  bare  hills 
engirdling  Nashville,  the  wide  wastes  around  Murfrees- 
boro',  to  tell  of  their  valor.  Then  he  proceeded  to  do 
this  himself  —  in  so  eloquent,  so  fiery,  so  tender  a  strain 
that  it  brought  the  remnant  of  his  brigade  to  the  front 
with  the  old  rebel  charging  yell,  which  set  the  great  bell 
in  the  court-house  tower  to  shivering. 

He  stated  that  he  was  no  candidate  for  any  omce  what 
ever  within  the  gift  of  the  people,  and  had  no  interest 
save  theirs  at  heart ;  in  short,  he  represented  himself  as  a 
sort  of  self-organized  tutelary  deity  of  the  party,  appear 
ing  before  them  only  in  support  of  its  principles.  "  You 
all  know  me,"  he  said,  with  some  pardonable  pride,  as 
they  manifested  their  appreciation  of  the  purity  of  his 
motives.  "  I  stand  upon  my  native  heath,  and  "  —  effec 
tive  diminuendo  —  "  my  name  is  Macgregor ! " 

In  the  thunder  of  applause  that  followed  his  peroration, 
a  grizzled,  elderly  wight  turned,  with  grave,  breathless 
interest,  to  Percy. 

"What   makes   the    old    Gen'al   say  he  stands  on  his 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  285 

naked  heels  an'  his  name  's  Grigory  ? "  he  asked  swiftly. 
"I  didn't  know  old  Frank  Vayne's  middle  name  was 
Grigory." 

Could  there  be  a  more  felicitous  anti-climax!  Bren- 
nett  fell  back  against  the  iron  fence,  laughing  with  sar 
donic  delight.  He  had  intended  to  humor  the  little-great 
man's  self-valuation  by  pressing  up  with  the  town  and 
country  magnates,  to  join  in  shaking  severely  the  orator's 
hand,  with  congratulations  on  the  u  powerful  effort,"  as 
the  phrase  went.  But  he  saw,  with  surprise,  that  General 
Vayne  was  pushing  through  the  crowd  toward  him,  waving 
off  the  effusive  demonstrations  of  his  friends  with  a  calm 
self-sufficiency  that  was  curiously  independent  of  vanity. 
His  face  was  flushed ;  there  was  an  anxious  gleam  in  his 
eyes;  he  fixed  them  eagerly  on  Mr.  Ridgeway,  who 
chanced  to  be  standing  close  by,  and  although  he  shook 
hands  with  Brennett  it  was  evidently  the  elder  gentle 
man  with  whom  he  wished  to  confer  —  about  no  private 
matter,  apparently,  for  he  began  without  preamble,  — 

"  A  great  surprise,  sir.  Lamentable  —  lamentable !  I 
had  heard  nothing  of  it  until  his  messenger  met  me  at  the 
depot.  I  had  promised  to  speak  at  once,  so  I  sent  you  a 
line  from  there.  We  can  arrange  it  now  ?  "  He  stroked 
his  gray  mustache,  and  looked  alertly  expectant. 

Mr.  Ridgeway  took  a  firm  stand,  metaphorically  and 
literally.  He  steadied  his  unwieldy  bulk  on  his  two 
ponderous  legs,  turned  his  argumentative  spectacles  on 
his  friend,  and  spluttered  emphatically, — 

"  You  are  not  able  to  lose  that  money,  General,  and 
I  'm  sure  I  'm  not." 

"  Lose  money,  sir  ?  " 

"  He  'd  bolt,  sir ;  if  that  man,  Toole,  were  bailed,  he  M 
bolt." 

Maurice  Brennett's  face  was   suddenly  petrified  —  its 


286  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

cynical  laugh  upon  it.  But,  with  those  distended  musclea 
1  hardened  and  rigid,  his  bright  eyes  narrowed,  his  teeth 
gleaming  through  his  parted  lips,  there  was  marvellously 
little  joviality  suggested.  The  two  important  old  cocks 
were  hardly  as  provocative  of  mirth  as  he  had  thought 
them  an  instant  ago.  He  retained  barely  power  enough 
to  look,  breathlessly,  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Permit  me,  sir,"  said  General  Yayne  loftily,  "to 
differ  with  you.  I  will  not  entertain  the  suspicion. 
That  man  served  four  years  in  my  brigade."  He  looked 
triumphantly  at  his  interlocutor.  The  logical  inference 
was  too  plain.  The  man  could  n't  bolt. 

Mr.  Ridgeway  nodded  his  big  head  and  his  big  Panama 
hat  very  much  to  one  side.  "I  know  all  that,  ana  I 
should  be  his  friend  now  if  he  had  behaved  better  in  this 
affair." 

"  Patent  your  art,  my  dear  sir, l  friendship  made  easy,' " 
cried  General  Yayne  satirically.  "  Drop  your  friends 
when  they  don't  «  behave  better  ! ' " 

"  General,"  said  Mr.  Ridgeway,  with  excellent  temper, 
"I  don't  want  you  to  throw  your  money  like  soapsuds 
into  a  sinkhole:  and  I  don't  want  to  throw  mine  there 
either." 

"  No  man  —  be  he  gentle  or  simple  —  shall  ever  seek 
help  from  me  and  I  withhold  this  hand,"  cried  General 
Yayne  impetuously.  He  raised  his  only  hand  and  struck 
it  violently  against  the  iron  fence.  "  Do  you  know,  sir," 
he  continued  solemnly,  "  that  man's  wife  lies  at  the  point 
of  death,  prostrated  by  the  shock  of  his  arrest  and  smitten 
with  paralysis.  There  has  not  been  a  dollar  in  that  house 
for  weeks  —  and  no  flour,  no  meal,  no  meat ;  those  chil 
dren  —  Lord  knows  how  many  —  have  subsisted  by  beg 
ging !  Begging  from  the  neighbors !  The  turnpike 
company  is  only  awaiting  the  moment  of  her  dissolu- 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  287 

tion  to  turn  that  family  out  upon  the  road.  The  man's 
occupation  is  gone,  and  he  has  all  those  starving  children 
to  provide  for." 

"A  good  reason  for  bolting,  if  there  were  no  other." 
Maurice  Brennett  had  suddenly  found  his  voice,  for  Mr. 
Ridge  way's  face  was  a  study  of  agonized  indecision. 
Perhaps  all  might  yet  remain  as  it  was. 

General  Vayne  turned  slowly,  with  a  haughty  stare  in 
his  intent  eyes,  as  he  fiercely  twirled  his  mustache. 

"  Under  your  favor,  sir,"  he  said,  loftily,  "  a  good 
reason  for  not  bolting,  if  there  were  no  other." 

Percy  pressed  Brennett's  shoulder  with  his  own  as  a 
warning  to  forbear,  for  his  friend  was  naturally  associated 
with  himself  in  General  Vayne's  mind,  and  he  took  politic 
care  that  all  such  association  should  be  pleasant. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Brennett  —  he  was  breathing 
more  freely  —  "I  had  only  heard  that  the  man  is  a  low 
fellow  and  abetted  in  this  transaction.  A  terrible  affair, 
I  'm  told  ;  shocked  the  community." 

"It  did,  —  it  did,"  spluttered  Mr.  Ridgeway.  "The 
law  must  be  upheld,  or  the  country  won't  be  fit  to  live  in." 

"  I  regard  the  law  of  the  land,  gentlemen,  as  the  will 
of  God,"  said  General  Vayne  sweepingly.  "  And  —  it  — 
allows  —  this  —  man  —  the  —  privilege  —  of  bail" 

There  was  no  answer  to  this.  Even  the  wordy  and 
intellectual  Maurice  Brennett  had  not  a  syllable  of  repli 
cation.  He  looked  at  General  Yayne  with  a  wonderful 
sharpening  of  those  rapacious  suggestions  in  his  eyes. 
Old  Mr.  Ridgeway,  with  an  air  of  absence  of  mind, 
brought  out  his  handkerchief  and  harrowed  with  it  the 
furrows  and  creases  of  his  fat  face. 

"I  regret  to  have  troubled  you,  sir,"  said  Genera] 
Vayne,  turning  with  elaborate  courtesy  to  Mr.  Ridgeway. 
"I  took  the  liberty  of  asking  your  co-operation  simply 


288  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

because  I  knew  that  the  law  requires  two  sureties  on  a 
bail-bond." 

lie  hesitated  a  moment,  then,  drawing  himself  to  his 
full  height,  he  said,  with  a  fierce  humility  that  was  strik 
ingly  like  pride :  "  In  the  s-h-shattered  condition  of  my 
fortune  I  sometimes  hardly  know  how  I  stand  with  the 
usurers,  but  I  believe  my  estate  will  bear  a  mortgage  for 
two  thousand  dollars  more,  and  I  will  borrow  the  money 
and  give  it  to  the  man  to  deposit  in  lieu  of  bail." 

A  sudden  idea  flashed  upon  Percy.  He  was  so  in  the 
habit  of  putting  his  own  money  in  a  safe  place  that  this 
method  of  propitiation  had  not  before  occurred  to  him. 

"  If  you  will  permit  me,  General,"  he  said,  with  a  charm 
ing  air  of  deference  and  modesty,  "  I  should  be  pleased 
to  go  on  the  bail-bond  with  you." 

General  Vayne  cast  on  him  a  glance  of  approval.  "  1 
thank  you,  sir,"  he  said.  "  But  if  there  is  any  money  to 
be  lost  here,  I  shall  lose  it.  I  bid  you  good  day,  gentle 
men."  He  waved  his  hand  ceremoniously,  turned,  strode 
up  the  pavement,  and  disappeared  within  the  court-house. 

Mr.  Ridgeway's  lungs  lay  far  inland  in  a  fat  country. 
A  huge  sigh  laboriously  travelled  up  from  them,  and  he 
took  off  his  hat  and  rubbed  his  handkerchief  around  and 
around  on  his  bald,  shining,  moist  pate. 

Men  who  speculate  upon  contingencies  have  a  fine  oppor 
tunity  for  realizing  how  purblind  and  finite  is  the  vaunted 
faculty  called  foresight,  and  how  infinitely  intricate  is  that 
mechanism  known  as  the  ordering  of  events. 

"  That  such  a  man  as  General  Vayne  should  bestir  him 
self  for  a  cracker  like  Toole ! "  Brennett  exclaimed  aloud, 
in  the  abandonment  of  his  despair. 

He  lingered  long  in  the  village  that  morning,  watching 
in  helpless  excitement  the  uncontrollable  course  of  the 
events  which  he  himself  had  set  in  motion.  His  finesse 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  289 

had  only  resulted  in  making  Toole  the  most  prominent 
figure  in  public  view,  for  General  Vayne  told  on  every 
street-corner  the  pathetic  story  of  the  wife's  untimely 
death  and  the  homeless  children's  destitution.  A  sub 
scription  for  their  benefit  was  headed  by  his  own  name, 
and  his  large  ideals  and  inflated  way  of  looking  at  things 
were  abundantly  manifest  when  he  appealed  to  the  ex- 
soldiers  of  Chattalla  in  behalf  of  the  tow-headed  brats 
out  on  the  turnpike,  as  the  children  of  a  veteran  who 
had  stood  his  ground  in  a  hundred  battles ;  when  he  spoke 
of  the  illiterate  lout  of  a  drunken  ferry-man  as  his  "  brave 
Companion  in  Arms."  Other  names  followed  fast ;  there 
was  something  enthusing  in  a  glimpse  through  that  foolish 
magnifying  glass.  Toole  had  never  had  so  much  money 
at  once  as  when  he  tramped  silently  out  of  the  town  and 
along  the  dusty,  white  turnpike  till  miles  lay  behind  him, 
and  at  last  the  dark  little  log-cabin,  that  was  to  be  no 
longer  his  home  came  in  sight.  Hardly  in  sight,  for  he 
would  not  look  at  it.  He  had  a  deep  sense  of  the  unna 
tural  solemnity  that  brooded  upon  it.  He  knew  what  lay 
within.  He  turned  abruptly  from  the  road  to  the  flower- 
jrowned  redoubt.  He  crossed  the  ditch,  climbed  the 
parapet,  and  flung  himself  down  in  an  empty  embrasure, 
through  which  a  great  gun  had  once  looked.  There  he 
watched  the  golden  afternoon  glow  and  ripen  to  redness, 
and  drop  at  last  out  of  the  sky.  The  latest  light  of  the 
day  quivered  on  the  wings  of  a  throng  of  homeward- 
bound  swallows  till  they  were  white,  and  scintillated  like 
a  flying  constellation.  The  cows  were  coming  home ;  he 
heard  them  low.  The  familiar  voice  of  the  river  sounded 
with  a  new  and  dreary  intonation.  He  listened  to  the  fit 
ful  bleating  of  the  baby,  still  rising  and  falling  as  it  had 
risen  and  fallen  through  all  the  long  hours  that  the  child 
bad  crept  about,  neglected,  and  in  forlorn  surprise,  on  the 


290  WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

rickety  porch.  Stars  were  in  the  sky,  and  suddenly  a 
golden  gleam  sprang  into  the  window  of  the  little  log- 
cabin.  He  lifted  himself  on  his  elbow  to  look  at  it,  and 
as  he  looked  he  burst  into  tears.  Why  should  a  light 
ever  shine  there  again ! 

It  was  strange  to  him  that,  filled  as  he  was  with  an 
overwhelming  realization  of  his  misfortunes,  he  could  still 
take  note  of  external  objects.  He  seemed  endowed  with 
keener  sense.  From  far  up  the  road  he  heard  the  regular 
hoof-beats  of  a  pair  of  trotters  and  the  smooth,  light  roll 
of  wheels.  He  recognized  Percy  and  Brennett  as  the 
buggy  whirled  by.  He  saw  in  the  dim  light  of  the  closing 
dusk  the  face  of  the  man  who  had  testified  against  him, 
and  whom  he  had  learned  to  hate.  And  so,  too,  the  man 
saw  his  face. 

There  was  so  hard,  so  fierce,  so  bitter  an  expression  on 
its  clumsy  features  that  Brennett  drove  on  in  renewed 
perplexity.  He  had  had  some  wild,  reckless  idea  of  taking 
advantage  of  Toole's  straits  by  bribing  him  heavily  to 
leave  the  place.  But  he  began  to  realize  that  he  was 
regarded  as  the  direct  and  active  cause  of  these  calami 
ties,  and  although  it  could  not  be  divined  that  thus  he 
had  sought  to  subserve  a  personal  interest,  still  Toole  was 
an  unreasoning  brute,  and  this  instinctive  distrust  and 
enmity  could  hardly  be  dissipated  even  by  the  most  spe 
cious  arguments.  It  was  sheer  madness  to  place  himself  in 
the  power  of  a  man  who  held  a  grudge  like  this  against 
him.  And  so  he  cast  the  thought  from  him  forever. 

The  swift  shadows  of  the  horses  that  had  raced  with 
them  neck  and  neck  along  the  sunset  road  were  distanced 
and  lost  in  the  darkness.  Only  the  red  sparks  of  the 
cigars  broke  the  monotony  of  the  colorless  night.  The 
new  ferry-man,  who,  silent  and  grim,  pulled  them  over 
the  river,  was  a  suggestively  lowering  figure  in  the  gloom, 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  291 

and  the  river  was  as  black  as  Styx.  Brennett  felt  in 
landing  on  the  other  side  that  he  had  left  all  hope  and 
life,  and  was  entering  upon  judgment.  He  arraigned 
himself  fiercely.  He  might  have  foreseen;  surely  ho 
might  have  been  sharper ! 

He  said  to  himself  that  this  was  definitive ;  the  game 
was  up.  The  man  concerning  whom  General  Vayne,  with 
his  fantastically  potent  rhetoric,  blowing  about  the  town, 
had  raised  a  cloud  of  public  interest,  might  now  tell  his 
story  every  day  to  a  genteel  audience.  Other  "  companions 
in  arms"  would  indulgently  listen  to  Toole's  remi 
niscences,  when,  in  rehearsing  his  Iliad  of  woes,  he  would 
relate  how  the  old  commander  held  out  the  left  hand 
spared  him,  although  no  one  else  would  move ;  and  so  to 
General  Vayne's  qualities  as  man  and  soldier,  to  his  feats 
on  the  field,  to  the  wide  subject  of  the  great  battle,  to  the 
details  of  personal  experience,  —  and  was  it  likely  that  the 
dramatic  story  of  the  burning  bridge  and  the  officer  who 
tired  it  would  be  forgotten  ? 

So  it  was  all  over.  Brennett  was  so  loath  to  realize  it 
that  he  remained  inactive  for  days  in  torturing  suspense. 
When  the  Criminal  Court  was  in  session,  and  the  case 
came  on  for  trial,  he  watched  the  proceedings  in  a  lethargy 
of  despair.  The  fact  of  self-defence  was  so  incontestably 
proved,  that  the  jury  found  a  verdict  of  acquittal  without 
leaving  the  box,  and  the  two  men  were  free  forever.  They 
occupied  so  much  public  attention,  that  Brennett's  mind 
was  forcibly  recalled  to  the  dangers  with  which  Toole's 
prominence  menaced  him.  The  veriest  chance  word  that 
might  come  to  Percy  or  Miss  St.  Pierre  would  ruin  all, 
and  Percy,  in  his  utter  idleness,  made  it  a  point  to  interest 
himself  in  such  subjects  as  General  Vayne  took  in  hand, 
that  he  might  find  opportunities  to  present  himself  in  an 
amiable  light  for  that  simple-hearted  gentleman's  approval, 


292  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

He  had  not,  it  is  true,  done  his  sensibilities  the  violence 
of  attending  the  trial,  but  he  was  much  exercised  about 
the  cheerful  verdict,  and  brought  up  the  subject  himself 
the  evening  after  it  was  rendered  as  he  sat  in  the  library 
at  General  Vayne's  house.  The  wide  windows  let  in 
squares  of  moonlight  that  lay  sharply  defined  upon  the 
iloor  despite  the  yellow  lustre  of  the  shaded  lamp.  The 
white  curtains  fluttered  in  the  perfumed  breeze.  From 
far  away  he  could  hear  the  melancholy  note  of  the  frogs 
monotonously  chanting  in  the  dank  ditches  of  the  works. 
It  filled  the  pause  that  ensued  when  Captain  Estwicke 
was  ushered  in  upon  the  party,  and  the  formal  greetings 
were  over. 

Percy  turned  to  him  agreeably.  It  was  an  element  of 
his  self-love  to  include  even  every  casual  stranger  in  the 
demonstrations  of  what  he  mentally  designated  his  "  uni 
versal  fascination  system."  Estwicke's  hard  metal,  and 
the  superficiality  of  his  suavity  were  very  patent  when 
they  were  thus  contrasted  with  these  soft  graces. 

"  You  drove  over,  Captain  ?  Then  you  have  n't  heard 
the  news  from  our  little  burgh." 

This  was  so  obviously  a  note  from  General  Vayne's 
bugle  that  Estwicke  could  have  smitten  Percy  for  it; 
why  did  he  call  the  town  a  "  burgh !  " 

Estwicke,  silent,  his  elbow  resting  lightly  on  the  table, 
looked  at  Percy  with  a  challenging  stare. 

"  You  will  be  glad  to  know  that  Toole  is  acquitted." 

"  Toole  ?  "  Estwicke  repeated,  dubiously. 

"The  ferryman,  or  rather  the  ex-ferryman,"  Percy 
politely  explained. 

Fstwicke's  face  was  blankly  unresponsive.  He  had  not 
&nown  that  the  ferryman  was  accused  of  anything ;  if  he 
had  noticed,  he  had  forgotten  that  the  office  was  filled  by 
a  stranger.  He  was  a  trifle  confused  to  be  boned  on  a 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  293 

point  like  this,  as  if  he  were  expected,  at  such  a  distance, 
to  keep  up  with  the  excitements  of  the  village.  His  at 
tention  too  was  divided.  He  had  never  before  seen 
Marcia  wear  a  white  dress.  The  material  and  make  were 
of  the  simplest,  but  the  snowy  diaphanous  draperies  gave 
an  added  lustre  to  that  fresh  young  loveliness.  The  sleeve 
fell  away  from  her  delicate  wrist,  displaying  her  rounded 
dimpled  arm,  and  all  the  soft  folds  illustrated  the  grace  of 
her  lithe,  slender  figure.  Her  throat  rose  from  a  many- 
petalled  ruche.  Her  hair  sparkled  with  golden  glimmers ; 
with  all  this  whiteness  about  her,  she  seemed  trebly  fair. 
Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  she  looked  at  him  with  a 
smile  deep  in  her  gracious  young  eyes.  He  felt  that  she 
was  conscious  of  this  sudden  bloom  into  a  beauty  infin* 
itely  exquisite.  He  recognized  her  frank  vanity. 

And  how  came  those  other  men  here ! 

Thus  his  jealousy  shut  from  him  the  suspicion  that  by 
the  intuition  of  an  awakened  heart  she  had  divined  his 
coming.  And  so  it  was,  he  never  knew  that  even  after 
•Jie  lamps  were  lighted,  she  was  still  sewing,  that  the  dress 
might  be  finished  in  time,  and  he  should  find  her  lovely. 

He  looked  at  Percy,  not  at  her.  And  he  said  nothing 
of  Toole,  the  humble  fellow  who  had  served  his  coming 
and  going  for  a  matter  of  six  months,  and  who  had  lived 
a  tragedy  lately.  General  Yayne  pulled  hard  at  his  mus 
tache.  But  he  had  always  thought  that  this  man  was 
peculiarly  callous. 

"  Oh,  poor  fellow ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Kirby,  shaking  her 
curls  compassionately,  "so  destitute —homeless — with 
out  employment  —  and  so  many  children  —  so  many." 

She  turned  and  bent  the  beaming  blandishments  of  her 
fc/nile  upon  Brennett.  "  Poverty  in  the  country  is  more 
painful  to  contemplate  than  poverty  in  town,  I  think,  Mr. 
Brennett.  Deprivation  in  the  midst  of  the  abundance*  of 


294  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

nature ;  yes,  very  bad  indeed,  very  bad.  In  towns,  potatoes 
are  measured  by  the  bushel,  and  signify  dimes.  In  the 
country  they  are  meted  out  by  the  sunshine,  and  the  rain, 
and  the  generous  earth,  and  they  signify  the  blessing  of 
God  on  the  rich  season  —  yes.  And  these  are  the  inalien 
able  rights  of  the  poor  as  well  as  the  wealthy  —  the  just 
and  the  unjust." 

Brennett  smiled  vaguely,  with  a  semblance  of  endors 
ing  this  romantic  communistic  proposition. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  potatoes  belong  to  the  man  who 
plants  them,"  said  Marcia  prosaically,  from  out  the  poetic 
shimmer  of  her  white  dress. 

The  slightest  vibration  of  her  voice  thrilled  through 
Estwicke,  but  he  sat  looking  straight  forward,  and  did  not 
turn  his  head. 

"  Do  you  know,  General  Vayne,  what  Toole  intends  to 
do  ?  "  asked  Brennett  with  some  eagerness. 

"What  can  he  do?"  said  General  Yayne  with  a  depre 
catory  wave  of  the  hand.  "  Pie  is  not  a  skilled  workman  ; 
his  only  chance  is  to  find  an  odd  job  now  and  then." 

"  Ah,  the  poor  man  !  So  precarious !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Kirby.  "  He  quits  his  little  house  next  Thursday.  But 
his  aunt,  old  Mrs.  Prindle,  at  the  toll-gate,  good  old  soul, 
will  take  one  of  the  children,  the  youngest,  yes,  the  baby. 
F-fat  little  thing ! "  she  cried,  with  a  cheery,  grand 
motherly  smile  illuminating  the  general  desolation.  "  And 
no  doubt  he  can  find  homes  with  some  of  the  small  farm 
ers  for  the  boys  —  boys,  yes  —  so  useful,  you  know  — 
pick  up  chips." 

"  You  have  talked  with  him  then,"  said  Brennett,  pur 
suing  the  subject. 

"  Yes  ;  Marcia  piloted  me  over  there  —  long  walk,  dear 
me !  and  very  warm  to-day.  Takes  his  wife's  death  hard, 
rery  hard.  Seems  really  to  feel  it,  you  know.  She  was 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE    WAS   FOUGHT.  295 

dead  before  he  was  released,  before  he  reached  there. 
The  shock  of  his  arrest  killed  her,  and  it  was  all  for 
naught,  since  he  was  acquitted.  And  nothing  consoles 
that  poor  baby.  But  it  is  all  over  dimples !  It  is  a  ter 
rible  reflection  that  that  mother's  life  was  sacrificed,  and 
those  children  bereaved  —  all  for  nothing ! " 

"  Oh,  I  beg  of  you  ! "  exclaimed  Percy,  with  a  gesture 
of  entreaty. 

"  Yes,  very  serious,  I  don't  wonder  it  jars  your  nerves," 
said  the  old  lady  with  solemnity. 

"Why,  that's  a  calamity  —  to  jar  his  nerves!"  ex 
claimed  Marcia,  with  a  light  laugh.  Light  as  it  was,  it 
had  in  it  so  tense  a  thrill  of  satire  that  the  others  looked 
at  her  in  surprise. 

She  sat  at  her  ease  in  the  stiff  old  arm-chair,  her  hand 
toying  with  a  full-blown  white  rose.  She  was  very 
charming  to  look  upon,  and  all  the  gentlemen  were  gazing 
at  her.  Nevertheless,  Mrs.  Kirby  sighed.  Surely  it  was 
not  politic  to  show  temper  before  so  many  unwived  men. 
And  temper  for  what  —  pray? 

"  A  calamity  ! "  Marcia  reiterated,  "  but  we  must  try  to 
bear  up  against  it ! " 

Certainly  it  is  anomalous  that  a  lover  should  grudge  his 
rival  the  lady's  displeasure.  But  the  fact  that  she  spoke 
.hus  freely  to  Percy  reminded  Estwicke  unpleasantly  of 
the  friendship  which  had  subsisted  between  them  long, 
long  before  he  ever  saw  her. 

Percy  was  so  accustomed  to  be  regarded  as  an  exemplar 
of  all  that  is  gallant,  and  generous,  and  high-spirited  in 
youth,  that  now  he  was  suddenly  confused,  self -deprecia 
tory,  and  wounded. 

"  You  mean  my  sympathy  is  so  shallow  that  it  is  worth 
less?"  he  said,  looking  at  her  with  a  gentle  deprecation, 
that  the  bewildered  Mrs.  Kirby  thought  must  surely  dis- 


296  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

arm  her.  Her  aspect,  however,  was  so  impassive  that  the 
old  lady,  who  believed  herself  the  tactician  of  the  world, 
and  joyed  in  her  little  management,  could  not  trust  the 
conversation  in  other  guidance,  and  seized  upon  the  helm 
herself. 

"  Sympathy ! "  she  cried.  •'  Why  Toole  is  held  as  a 
public  martyr!" 

"  And  that  is  very  bad  for  him,  and  for  the  community," 
said  the  severe  Marcia.  "  He  thought  he  was  breaking  the 
law  —  that  was  his  intention" 

Oh,  if  a  young  lady  only  knew  how  unlovely  she  appears 
when  she  sets  herself  to  discourse  of  affairs  of  public 
policy,  she  would  forbear  —  she  would  refrain.  Mrs. 
Kirby  could  have  wrung  her  hands.  So  many  gentle 
men  !  And  the  moonlight  was  touching  the  girl's  grave 
face  with  a  spiritual  glamour,  and  shifting  over  her 
beautiful  dress,  and  the  melodious  nocturnal  sounds 
pulsed  along  the  perfumed  air,  and  all  the  night  was  full 
of  starlight,  and  poetry,  and  the  bursting  of  buds,  and 
the  bloom  of  flowers  —  and  she  to  be  talking  about  the 
community ! 

Maurice  Brennett's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Marcia  with 
questioning  intensity.  What  did  she  mean  ?  What  was 
she  driving  at  ? 

"  Help  me  to  reconstruct  my  sympathy,"  said  Percy, 
still  grave  and  gentle. 

"  You  give  him  money,"  said  Marcia  reprovingly,  "  be 
cause  you  have  plenty  of  it  and  won't  miss  it." 

Everybody  winced  at  this  frank  mention  of  the  young 
gentleman's  wealth. 

"  You  give  him  money,  and  it  slips  away  immediately, 
ind  it  is  bad  for  him  —  he  drinks  it  up  —  and  when 
it  is  all  gone  —  what  then  ?  You  give  him  money  be 
cause  you  are  sorry  for  him  —  for  a  little  while  —  and 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  297 

to  give  it  makes  you  feel  better.  But  you  can't  think  for 
him  —  you  won't  give  him  so  much  as  a  thought." 

General  Vayne  was  nervously  pulling  his  mustache,  and 
staring  at  his  daughter's  soft  young  face,  with  its  un^ 
wontedly  severe  expression,  as  if  on  the  whole  he  did  not 
recognize  her.  Mrs.  Kirby  could  not  even  fan.  Miss  St. 
Pierre  smiled  from  one  to  another,  as  if  to  make  believe 
that  this  was  a  mere  society  conversation,  and  had  no 
especial  significance,  no  incongruities.  Estwicke,  with  a 
heavy  frown  on  his  face,  was  watching  Percy,  who  leaned 
eagerly  forward,  his  elbow  on  his  knee,  and  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  his  temper  unruffled,  and  his  pride  pocketed. 

"  I  confess  all  that,"  he  said  hastily.  "  Tell  me  how  I 
must  think  for  him." 

"  You  make  him  a  beggar,"  Marcia  continued,  still  ir- 
dignantly  accusing,  "  when  you  might  give  him  a  chance 
to  work  for  his  living,  and  support  his  children,  and  keep 
them  together,  instead  of  distributing  them  about  the 
country  to  anybody  who  will  take  them." 

"  I  shall  make  it  my  business  to  get  him  into  something," 
declared  Percy. 

"  Mind,"  said  Marcia,  lifting  the  white  rose  with  a 
didactic  gesture,  "it  must  be  something  in  which  he 
honestly  earns  every  dollar  of  his  wages  —  it  must  be  no 
pretence  —  charity  in  disguise.  That,  you  know,  can't 
last.  What  do  you  think  of  trying?" 

"  I  had  no  definite  idea,"  Percy  admitted,  a  trifle  con 
fused.  u  I  don't  know  of  anything  about  here  —  in  this 
town  or  neighborhood  that  would  answer." 

"  Here  —  why  it  is  not  necessary,  surely,  that  the  man 
should  remain  here/"  she  rejoined  impatiently. 

Maurice  Brennett  scarcely  dared  to  breathe.  The 
anguish  of  his  hope  was  hardly  less  poignant  than  the 
anguish  of  his  fear.  Great  drops  started  on  his  forehead. 


298  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

He  could  not,  he  would  not  speak.  What  incongruity  oi 
fate  was  this  ?  That  this  girl,  this  saint  on  earth,  should 
unconsciously  lend  her  hand  to  his  schemes  —  that  she 
should  help  Toole  out  of  the  country ! 

"  Can't  you  find  work  for  him  elsewhere  ?"  she  de 
manded  imperiously.  "  You  have  interests  away  from 
this  little  treadmill  of  a  town."  (Young  America  is  not 
always  respectful  to  the  good  old  "burgh"  of  its  fathers.) 
"  Don't  you  own  an  interest  in  some  sort  of  factory  —  a 
furniture  factory,  or  something  or  other,  at  Marston,"  she 
continued  vaguely — "enough  to  make  them  employ  a 
workman  you  choose  to  send  them?" 

"  I  reckon  so,"  said  Percy ;  he  brightened  at  the  sug 
gestion,  and  rose  with  a  triumphant  laugh.  In  fact,  he 
had  no  doubt,  for  he  was  a  half  owner  in  the  flourishing 
concern ;  but  he  was  modest  in  regard  to  his  possessions, 
and  affected  a  modicum  of  uncertainty.  "  If  you  will  lef 
me  have  pen  and  paper,  I  will  write  to  them  now,  and 
give  the  letter  to  Toole  as  I  go  past  his  house  on  my  way 
home." 

"  Yes — dear — yes.  Get  the  inkstand  for  Horace,"  said 
Mrs.  Kirby,  having  recovered  the  use  of  her  palm-leaf  fan 
"  Take  your  little  key-basket  off  the  table  —  yes  —  out  oi 
Horace's  way,"  she  added  blandly.  She  was  in  truth 
anxious  to  make  the  girl  wait  upon  him,  and  in  trivial 
acts  of  consideration  and  deference  afford  a  small  com 
pensation  for  the  soul-trying  experience  to  which  she  had 
subjected  him. 

But  Percy,  as  he  sat  at  the  table,  looked  up  with  a 
bright  protest  in  his  dark  eyes. 

"  No,  it  does  n't  disturb  me,  I  assure  you ;  don't  trouble 
yourself."  As  he  touched  with  an  insistent  gesture  the 
stout  little  wicker  basket,  with  its  jingling  contents  of 
housekeeping  keys,  his  hand  met  hers  for  a  moment 


WHEEE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  299 

Estwicke  saw  this ;  he  divined  the  wild,  vague  suggestion 
of  close  domestic  association  which  made  the  ugly,  house 
wifely  little  key-basket  a  precious  thing  in  the  young  man's 
eyes,  and  its  proximity  a  pleasure.  He  recognized  the 
adroit  tact  by  which  she  was  kept  hovering  about  the 
table,  and  knew  that  it  seemed  to  Percy  a  foretaste,  too,  of 
the  blissful  unrestraint  of  a  common  home,  that  he  should 
informally  remain  seated  while  she  stood  beside  him  and 
bent  over  to  look  at  the  paper  and  pen,  when  he  called  her 
attention  to  them. 

Estwicke's  heart  waxed  hot  within  him ;  was  it  for  this 
that  he  had  come  so  far  to  see  her  ?  With  a  sharpened 
sense  he  heard  every  word  that  passed  between  them, 
despite  the  animated  chatter  of  the  rest  of  the  group. 
He  saw  and  translated  as  full  of  meaning  every  gesture. 

"  Is  this  your  pen  ?  "  asked  Percy,  examining  it.  "  The 
General's  ?  Well,  there 's  a  heavy  stroke  for  you  !  Why 
does  n't  he  write  with  a  fence-rail  at  once ! " 

She  laughed  blithely  as  she  bent  down  to  look  at  the 
writing ;  her  face  was  sweetly  flushed ;  her  eyes  were  so 
gentle  now ;  her  floating,  diaphanous  sleeve  lightly  brushed 
his  shoulder ;  his  eyes  followed  its  sweep.  He  was  so  gay, 
so  handsome,  so  alertly  confident,  and  she  was  so  pleased 
with  him. 

As  she  turned  away,  he  glanced  up  once  more.  "  Do 
you  write  the  date  on  the  top  line  or  the  next  one  ?  And 
how  must  I  date  it  ?  —  advise  me.  From  Chattalla  ?  Oh, 
how  you  shock  me.  Is  this  what  you  call  candor  ?  I  'm 
not  in  Chattalla,  thank  heaven  !  " 

As  he  began  to  write  she  went  away  and  sat  down,  still 
flushed,  and  excited,  and  absorbed. 

"  Mr.  Percy  is  very  prompt  in  keeping  his  promises," 
said  Brennett;  his  lips  were  dry;  he  enunciated  with 
difficulty  the  commonplace. 


800  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  a  very  promising  young  man,"  Percy  declared 
without  raising  his  head. 

But  it  was  only  a  moment  before  he  again  appealed  to 
her. 

"  Can't  you  help  me  word  this  ?  "  he  said  speciously. 
"  I  'm  getting  mixed  up  here  hi  some  fearfully  awkward 
phraseology." 

In  the  simplicity  of  her  heart  she  rose  instantly  and 
went  to  help  him.  To  Estwicke  it  hardly  seemed  simpli 
city.  He  could  not  understand  how  she  should  fail  to 
know  that  a  man  like  Percy  was  wont  to  write  in  what 
ever  hasty  and  dishevelled  style  that  pleased  him  to  the 
stewards  of  his  wealth,  and  had  of  necessity  far  more 
epistolary  experience  than  she.  The  two  together  made 
a  long,  grave,  and  careful  job  of  it.  Percy  was  hyper 
critical  ;  once  or  twice  he  objected  to  her  suggestions  on 
the  score  of  tautology,  and  as  she  placed  her  dimpled, 
rounded  elbows  on  the  table,  and  rested  her  cheek  on  her 
clasped  hands,  and  cast  her  eyes  absently  out  on  the  moon 
light  in  a  cogitating  search  for  a  felicitous  synonym,  he, 
with  his  pen  idly  poised,  looked  with  a  satisfied  proprietary 
admiration  at  the  pretty  picture  she  made.  And  Estwicke 
looked  at  him. 

It  was  all  over  at  last,  and  he  had  written  his  name 
half  across  the  page. 

She  laughed  as  she  glanced  at  this  pompous  signa 
ture. 

"  That  is  a  very  great  man !  "  she  said. 

"./believe  in  him  —  for  one,"  said  Percy — which  was 
the  truest  word  he  had  spoken  for  a  week. 

"And  so  do  I,"  protested  Mrs.  Kirby  blandly. 

And  this,  too,  was  true  in  a  certain  sense.  Estwicke 
nad  felt  more  than  once  that  they  all  liked  Percy  for 
Mmself  —  apart  from  his  prominence  and  wealth,  which 


WHERE,   THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  301 

to  the  eyes  of  a  poor  and  jealous  rival  were  formidable 
advantages.  The  handsome  young  fellow,  with  his  subtle 
arts  of  propitiation,  always  contrived  to  appear  here  in 
an  exceptionally  genial  and  fascinating  guise.  With  a 
disposition  to  make  amends  for  all  that  he  must  have 
suffered  in  the  crucial  interview  with  Marcia,  the  kindly 
feeling  of  the  elders  was  especially  marked  to-night. 
Estwicke  was  of  course  unaware  of  this  motive.  He  was 
angry,  sore,  dismayed  —  he  seemed  to  have  dreamed  that 
blissful  termination  of  all  his  vacillations  of  hope  and  fear. 
But  for  the  glitter  of  his  own  ring  on  the  girl's  hand  he 
could  not  have  realized  that  she  had  so  lately  given  him  a 
promise  which  he  had  fancied  was  dear  to  them  both  — 
which  had  made  his  future  bloom  like  a  rose. 

Only  when  he  spoke  to  her  at  last  —  he  had  risen  to  take 
leave  —  did  his  heart,  grown  so  strangely  heavy,  beat  with 
a  quick,  tumultuous  throb  once  more.  The  group  was 
breaking  up,  for  it  was  late,  and  these  two  were  standing 
quite  apart  from  the  others  for  a  moment. 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  with  so  candid  a  disappoint  • 
ment  expressed  in  them,  that  he  was  in  a  measure  con 
soled. 

"  We  have  had  a  dull  time,  have  n't  we  ?  But  —  but " 
—  her  eyelashes  drooped  a  little,  —  "  you  know  you  '11  be 
coming  back  again  soon." 

"  To-morrow,"  he  said  hastily.  "  In  the  morning,"  he 
added,  frowning  darkly  over  an  intention  of  thus  out 
marching  Percy.  But  she  was  so  evidently  unconscious 
of  having  given  him  reason  for  jealousy,  that  he  began  to 
te  a  trifle  ashamed  of  it. 

Percy  glanced  at  them  askance  as  he  stood  at  a  little 
iistance,  a  victim  of  Mrs.  Kirby's  messages  and  remem 
brances  to  his  mother.  He  had  experienced  upon  first 
meeting  Estwicke  a  vague  uneasiness  to  find  any  person- 


302  WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

nble  man  in  her  society,  but  it  had  been  dissipated  by  the 
fict  that  the  officer  seemed  a  dull,  heavy  fellow,  and  there 
was  no  sign  of  a  sentimental  interest.  Now,  however,  he 
detected  something  in  Estwicke's  manner  that  roused  him 
from  the  soft  delights  of  his  self-satisfaction  to  the  keenest 
anxiety.  He  had  not  time  to  make  sure ;  he  would  have 
waited  till  Estwicke  was  gone,  but  Brennett  seemed 
feverishly  anxious  to  be  off,  and  he  must  go  with  his  guest, 
As  they  walked  down  the  long  pavement  he  strove  to  re 
assure  himself  with  the  recollection  of  the  man's  serious, 
intent,  even  frowning  face.  Surely  this  was  not  the  self- 
gratulatory  mien  of  a  favored  lover.  And  he  had  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  officer  frequented  the  house ; 
General  Yayne's  political  feeling  would  hardly  warrant 
that  supposition,  and  he  had  never  before  met  Estwicke 
here. 

Their  host  had  accompanied  them  to  the  buggy;  he  was 
gesticulating  with  his  left  hand  as  he  described  to  Brennett 
how  the  features  of  the  country  were  utilized  in  a  certain 
midnight  assault  on  Fort  Despair  —  an  incident  of  the 
great  battle.  As  Percy  looked  back  at  the  door  he  saw,  in 
the  yellow  flare  of  the  swinging  lamp  in  the  hall,  Mrs.  Kirby 
and  Miss  St.  Pierre  standing  there,  exclaiming  over  the 
iniquity  of  Dick,  who  had  robbed  a  nest  among  the  roses 
on  the  pillars  of  the  portico,  and  was  bringing  the  young 
mocking-birds  into  the  house.  The  conviction  was  forced 
upon  Percy.  Estwicke  had  lingered  in  the  library  that 
he  might  have  a  few  moments  alone  with  Marcia.  And 
had  she  not  lingered  as  well  ? 

Percy  drove  away  in  moody  silence,  and  very  slowly. 
At  every  turn  of  the  road  he  glanced  back,  expecting  to 
Bee  a  shadow  moving  in  the  moonlight,  and  to  hear  the 
whir  of  wheels.  Evidently  Estwicke  had  not  yet  left  the 
house,  for  he  saw  only  the  myriads  of  fire-flies,  pulsing 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  303 

points  of  light,  among  the  heavy  foliage  on  the  redoubts, 
and  he  heard  nothing  but  the  shrill,  quavering  wail  of  a 
screech-owl,  jarring  ever  and  anon  the  sombre  stillness  of 
the  haunted  thickets. 

He  experienced  a  thrill  of  dismay  that  he  should 
suspect  all  this  so  late.  Hitherto  he  had  considered  him 
self  reasonably  sure  of  her,  although  he  had  as  yet  given 
her  no  intimation  of  the  state  of  his  feelings.  He  had 
thought  he  might  safely  wait.  They  were  both  very 
young  —  there  was  plenty  of  time  before  them  —  and  he 
felt,  too,  that  his  freedom  was  dear  and  that  he  would 
like  to  see  a  little  more  of  the  world  before  settling  down 
to  quiet  home-life  and  conjugal  felicity.  Pie  had  been 
entirely  at  ease  as  to  the  completion  of  his  romance,  when 
it  should  suit  him  to  recur  to  it.  Now,  however,  his 
inertia,  wThen  the  field  had  been  clear,  seemed  to  him  in 
explicable,  and  it  required  some  agile  mental  processes  to 
reason  himself  out  of  his  despondency.  But  he  remem 
bered  once  more  Estwicke's  grave,  intent,  frowning  face 
—  he  remembered,  too,  that  she  had  scarcely  spoken  to 
any  one  but  himself  throughout  the  evening.  He  re 
solved  that  he  would  take  heart  of  grace  —  if  he  had 
been  too  dilatory  heretofore,  he  would  compensate  him 
self  now. 

His  whip  touched  the  off  horse.  They  bowled  along 
swiftly  through  the  gloom.  The  wind  seemed  to  freshen 
with  the  quickening  motion.  He  felt  its  influence. 

"  It 's  a  good  thing  I  forgot  that  letter ! "  he  exclaimed 
hopefully. 

The  sudden  sharpness  of  Maurice  Brennett's  voice 
struck  his  attention  even  amidst  his  pre-occupation, 

"  Did  you  leave  it  there  ?  " 

"  I  left  it  lying  on  the  table  —  and  that 's  a  good  excuse 
X)  go  back  to-morrow,"  said  Percy,  laughing. 


304  WHERE  THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

Brennett  breathed  hard  —  he  remembered  the  broad 
open  windows  and  the  position  of  the  table  near  them 
He  felt  on  his  cheek  the  fresh  wind  —  what  more  natural 
than  that  the  letter  on  which  so  much  depended  should 
be  blown  upon  the  floor  to  lie  there  overlooked,  until 
some  careless  housemaid  should  sweep  it  out  in  the  morn 
ing.  It  was  as  likely  that  Percy  would  forget  the  "  good 
excuse"  when  once  there  again,  and  the  young  lady, 
having  carried  her  point,  would  probably  recur  to  it  nc 
more.  Thus  Toole,  narrowly  missing  the  good  fortune 
intended  for  him,  would  still  remain  here. 

It  was  hard  to  say  upon  what  pretext  Brennett  could 
interf ere  —  how  he  could  busy  himself  in  matters  appa 
rently  so  alien  to  his  interests  without  exciting  surprise, 
anger,  even  suspicion  of  his  motives.  The  fact  that  Miss 
Vayne  had  concerned  herself  in  the  incongruous  affair 
added  elements  of  difficulty  —  the  jealous  sensitiveness 
of  her  lover,  and  the  delicacy  requisite  in  speaking  of  a 
young  lady.  But  he  could  not  —  he  would  not  submit 
his  recently  rescued  project  to  a  contingency  like  this  — 
so  slight  in  itself,  so  portentously  important  in  its  effects. 
He  had  only  a  moment  for  thought,  but  he  was  wont  to 
think  quickly. 

Percy  saw  his  face  in  the  flicker  of  a  match  which  he 
had  struck  and  applied  to  his  cigar.  He  was  laughing 
cynically,  despite  the  weed  held  fast  between  his  teeth. 

The  young  fellow  turned  scarlet ;  he  felt  a  fiery  rush  of 
indignation. 

"  I  am  glad  to  afford  you  so  much  amusement,"  he  said, 
as  stiffly  as  a  punctilious  host  may  allow  himself  to  speak 
to  his  guest, 

Brennett  pulled  silently  at  the  cigar  until  it  was  fairly 
t-light,  then  he  flung  the  match  aside  in  the  road,  and 
•caned  back  luxuriously. 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  305 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  he  said  —  and  Percy  knew  from  the 
Bound  of  his  voice  that  he  was  still  laughing  in  the  dark 
ness  —  "I  beg  your  pardon  most  humbly,  I  assure  you. 
You  do  not  amuse  me  —  as  Horace  Percy.  I  only  laugh 
fit  certain  common  human  vagaries,  which  are  very 
humorously  expressed  in  you  at  this  period  of  your 
career." 

Percy's  wounded  pride  was  hardly  assuaged.  "  I  can't 
see  the  application,"  he  said  tartly. 

Brennett  laid  a  friendly  hand  upon  his  knee.  "  Don't 
ask  me  to  translate  your  characteristics,  and  then  quarrel 
with  me  for  my  version.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  charming 
degree  of  youthful  self-importance  and  self-love  is  sug 
gested  in  leaving  that  letter  as  a  good  excuse  to  call  on 
Miss  Vayne  to-morrow.  Do  you  think  she  has  no  self- 
love?  Will  she  be  flattered  that  you  forget  a  matter 
which  she  intrusted  to  you?" 

"  Oh  —  I  thank  you  —  she  will  guess  why  I  forgot  it," 
said  Percy  hardily.  "  If  she  can't,  I  will  help  her  when 
I  call  to-morrow." 

Brennett  made  no  answer.  That  the  success  of  such 
a  scheme  should  be  jeopardized  by  such  puerilities ! 

Percy  felt  that  this  silence  was  almost  impertinent. 
But  their  mutual  position  forbade  any  notice  of  it.  Still 
he  chafed  under  this  sense  of  wordless  ridicule. 

"  Oh,  talk  it  out,  Brennett,  talk  it  out ! "  he  exclaimed 
impatiently,  at  last. 

"  Why,  it 's  no  great  matter,  after  all,"  said  Brennett, 
laughing  agreeably.  "A  disappointment  will  do  you 
good.  Life  has  been  too  easy  for  you.  Lucky  fellow '  " 

"  A  disappointment !  "  said  Percy  sharply. 

"No  grave  disappointment,  of  course,"  said  Brennett. 
*  I  was  only  alluding  to  the  letter.  In  my  opinion  you 
will  never  see  it  again." 


806  WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

"  Why  ?  "  Percy  demanded  shortly. 

"  Oh,  confound  it,  boy,"  said  Brennett,  with  a  blunt, 
good-natured  intonation,  "  why,  she  will  give  it  to  Cap 
tain  Estwicke  to  hand  to  Toole  as  he  drives  by ;  and  you 
may  bet  your  immortal  soul  that  he  does  n't  forget  it." 

Percy  drew  the  horses  suddenly  into  a  walk. 

"What  makes  you  say  that?"  he  asked  eagerly 
"Did  you  notice  anything?" 

"Vaguely,  very  vaguely.  But,  however  that  may  bt, 
I  can  understand  how  she  might  think  him  a  man  whom 
she  could  intrust  with  a  little  matter  like  this;  a  man 
accustomed  to  responsibility,  detail,  duty.  What  do  you 
mean  ?  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

Percy  was  wheeling  the  vehicle  round  in  the  narrow 
road.  "  Going  back  for  that  letter,  that 's  all." 

"  It 's  too  late,"  Brennett  remonstrated.  He  drew  out 
his  watch,  and  leaned  forward,  striving  to  see  the  time 
by  the  glow  of  his  cigar.  He  heard  the  triumph  in  his 
own  voice,  he  felt  it  in  the  relaxing  muscles  of  his  face. 

Percy  made  no  rejoinder.  He  lashed  the  horses  sav 
agely  and  they  were  dashing  back  at  a  great  rate.  The 
old  house  loomed  close  upon  them,  dim  in  the  midnight, 
before  he  saw,  slipping  through  the  gloom,  the  moving 
shadow  for  which  he  had  angrily  watched. 

It  became  suddenly  stationary.  A  stentorian  "  Hello, 
there ! "  prevailed  on  him  to  check  his  horses,  and  the 
next  moment  Estwicke  was  standing  in  the  road,  with 
one  foot  on  the  hub  of  the  wheel,  as  he  leaned  into  the 
vehicle,  and  held  out  to  Percy  the  envelope,  with  his 
own  superscription. 

"I  am  instructed,"  he  said  gayly,  "to  overtake  you, 
and  give  you  that,  and  charge  you,  very  severely,  not  to 
forget  again." 

Both  men  in  the  buggy  were  looking  keenly  at  him  ai 


WHEKE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  807 

he  stood  in  the  full  moonlight.  He  was  elated ;  lie  had 
been  laughing ;  his  eyes  were  bright ;  there  was  a  flush 
on  his  cheek;  he  spoke  with  an  ease  and  a  hearty  com 
radeship  that  changed  him  out  of  recognition ;  he  seemed 
utterly  unlike  the  saturnine  stranger  they  had  left.  He 
was  disposed  to  hang  upon  the  wheel  and  talk  compan- 
ionably. 

"  May  I  trouble  you  for  a  light,  Mr.  Brennett  ? "  he 
said,  reaching  up  for  the  other's  cigar.  "I  might  have 
gotten  a  match  at  the  house,  but "  —  glancing  back  at  the 
lights  which  were  disappearing,  one  by  one,  from  the 
windows  —  "  can't  rouse  it  after  '  taps.' " 

Percy  said  nothing,  and  Brennett  made  amends  for  his 
silence. 

"  Do  you  drive  far  to-night,  Captain  ?  " 

"  Only  a  little  matter  of  seven  miles  —  first-rate  road. 
It 's  a  fine  country,  Mr.  Percy,  that  you  have  about  here," 
Estwicke  added,  as  he  turned  away.  "  Good  night." 

They  lost  sight  of  him  before  they  drew  up  at  Toole's 
log-cabin,  where  they  called  lustily,  to  rouse  its  occupant. 

Somehow,  as  they  stood  there  motionless,  and  looked 
on  the  vast,  dark  stretch  of  country  about  them,  and  the 
lonely  vastness  of  the  sky  above,  with  no  sound  but  the 
quavering  wail  of  the  owl  from  out  the  recesses  of  Fort 
Despair,  and  the  ceaseless  monotone  of  the  chanting 
frogs,  and  the  vibratory  clamor  of  the  cricket  and  the 
katydid,  and  the  weird  echoes  of  their  own  outcry  strik 
ing  back  from  the  parapets,  it  was  so  drear,  so  solitary, 
so  infinitely  forlorn,  that  some  untried  chord  of  Maurice 
Brennett's  nature  was  smitten  strongly  for  an  instant  and 
set  jarring  with  an  unwonted  throb.  He  remembered 
the  woman  with  yellow  hair  whom  he  had  seen  here 
walking  up  and  down  and  striking  her  hands  together  in 
mute  despair.  She  had  walked  thus  all  night.  And 


BOS  WHKBE  THE  BATTLE   W  A.S   FOUGHT. 

thus  she  had  been  found  in  the  morning.  It  was  a  mute 
despair,  for  she  had  spoken  no  more.  She  was  brought 
to  this  pass  by  the  shock  of  the  arrest,  the  ignorant 
people  said,  —  and  they  said  it  because  they  were  igno 
rant.  The  shock  had  only  evoked  and  given  direction  to 
some  deep-seated  disease  of  heart  or  brain,  which  would 
have  come  at  last.  But  he  had  set  it  all  in  motion ;  and 
now  he  was  sorry  —  he  was  very  sorry.  It  was  a  great 
price  to  have  paid ;  but,  he  argued,  a  very  vague  respon 
sibility.  Still,  if  he  could  have  known,  it  should  never 
have  happened.  And  perhaps  he  did  not  deceive  himself. 

He  was  glad  when  Toole  came  slouching  out  at  last ; 
he  was  even  glad  to  see  the  look  of  settled  hate,  as  the 
man  once  more  recognized  the  witness  who  had  testified 
against  him.  It  gave  Brennett  back  to  mundane  associa 
tions,  for  this  was  a  more  familiar  emotion  than  remorse. 

He  watched  Toole's  face  change  gradually  from  an 
expression  of  stunned  astonishment  to  one  of  infinite 
relief,  as  he  listened  to  Percy's  explanation  about  the 
work,  the  wages,  and  the  route. 

"  Oh,  I  '11  light  out  right  away ! "  cried  Toole  passion 
ately.  "  God  knows  I  don't  want  to  stay  hyar." 

Brennett  looked  forward  into  the  surly  glooms  hover 
ing  about  the  river,  a  smile  relaxing  his  thin  lips. 

Percy  was  about  to  drive  on.  He  hesitated,  and 
glanced  around  doubtfully.  He  had  enjoyed  doing  a 
real  benefaction  when  once  at  it.  The  humble  gratitude 
of  its  recipient  agreeably  titillated  his  self-esteem.  But 
his  mirror-like  nature  was  reflecting  the  influences  cast 
upon  it  this  evening,  arid  with  a  frankness,  and  justice, 
and  modesty  that  were  uncharacteristic,  he  had  an  im 
pulse  to  disclaim  the  credit  of  the  kindness.  Still,  Toole 
was  a  rough  fellow,  to  whom  he  hardly  liked  to  mention 
a  lady's  name. 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  309 

As  he  gathered  up  the  reins,  however,  he  said,  a  trifle 
dubiously,  — 

"  You  don't  owe  me  any  thanks ;  all  this  was  sug 
gested  to  me.  You  are  indebted  to  —  to  —  the  General's 
daughter." 

The  man  raised  his  shaggy,  tawny  head  and  looked 
back  over  his  shoulder  with  a  light  of  comprehension  on 
his  face.  "I  might  hev  knowed  that,"  he  exclaimed 
naively ;  "  't  ain't  the  fust  time  that  us  pore  folks  round 
hyar  hev  hed  ter  thank  her." 

Percy  drove  on,  laughing  a  little ;  and  Brennett  was 
laughing,  too,  triumphantly.  He  was  alert,  revivified. 
He  also  had  to  thank  her. 

And  hi  the  days  that  came  and  went  the  hawk's  bright 
eyes  were  cruelly  vigilant,  for  the  strong  prescience  of 
success  was  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

summer-time,  always,  Marcia  and  nature  together 
did  much  to  soften  the  traces  of  that  terrible  event  in 
the  history  of  the  old  house.  Flowering  vines  curtained 
such  of  its  windows  as  were  still  left  glassless.  In  the 
black  fissures  in  the  stone  wall  of  the  terraces,  and  the 
curb  of  the  pavements,  where  bombs  had  exploded,  lilies 
grew  tall  and  stately.  The  parterre  was  splendid  with 
variegated  color,  and  above  it  hovered  always  the  fluc 
tuating  brilliancy  of  humming-birds  and  butterflies,  that 
seemed  themselves  some  impalpable  undulatory  blossom 
ing  of  the  fragrant  air. 

It  was  close  upon  noon  when  Estwicke  checked  his 
horse  on  the  drive  next  day,  and  no  one  was  visible 
except  Edgar,  who  -.stood  upon  the  front  steps  in  an 
airy  costume  of  bare  feet  and  plump  calves,  brown  linen 
knickerbockers  and  blouse.  He  intently  examined  some 
thing  which  he  held  in  his  warm,  fat  hands. 

"  Is  your  father  at  home  ?  "  asked  Estwicke,  in  passing 
up  the  steps. 

"  Hy  're,  Cap'n  —  d  'ye  see  my  Juny-bug  ?  "  demanded 
Edgar  affably,  ignoring  the  question.  "  I  've  been  on  the 
terrus  to  ketch  me  a  Juny-bug.  An'  I  got  him," 

Upon  opening  his  hand  there  flew  into  the  sunshine  a 
June-bug,  its  roving  tendencies  very  effectually  checked 
by  a  thread  tied  to  one  of  its  legs. 

"  Marcia  says,"  continued  Edgar,,  holding  the  end  of 
310 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT.  311 

the  thread,  and  watching  with  complacent  eyes  his 
victim's  evolutions,  "Marcia  says  that  no  boy  who  is 
mean  enough  ter  tie  a  string  ter  a  Juny-bug's  leg  need  n't 
never  expec'  ter  go  ter  Heaven.  He  '11  make  a  mighty 
mistake  if  he  does  expec'  ter  go  there !  That 's  what 
Marsh  says !  " 

Estwicke  was  too  pre-occupied  to  comment  on  this 
singular  doctrine  of  election.  He  rang  the  bell  with 
out  further  questions,  while  Edgar,  with  that  insensibility 
to  appropriateness,  eminently  characteristic  of  the  infant 
mind,  sat  down  with  a  long  breath  of  enjoyment  upon  the 
hottest  step  of  the  whole  flight,  in  the  broad  glare  of  the 
sun,  and  watched  his  Juny-bug's  airy  gyrations  and 
listened  to  the  musical  whir  of  its  wings,  totally  indif 
ferent  to  the  prospective  exclusion  from  eternal  bliss. 

From  the  library  could  be  seen  vistas  of  uninhabited 
rooms,  with  bare  floors  and  curtainless  windows,  for  all 
the  doors  stood  open  this  June  day.  The  wind  swept 
through  with  a  rush,  bringing  the  warm  fragrance  of 
clover  from  the  battle-field  and  the  scent  of  the  roses 
that  climbed  the  pillars  of  the  portico.  There  seemed  in 
this  fierce  weather  much  method  in  the  madly  ostenta 
tious  proportions  of  the  house.  Within  was  a  large 
breeze-filled,  perfumed  twilight,  while  without,  the  earth 
was  scorching  under  a  furious  sun,  and  the  drowsy  drone 
of  the  cicada  pervaded  the  heated  air. 

In  the  strongest  draught  General  Yayne  sat,  alone,  at 
leisure,  reading  his  favorite  Addison's  Cato.  The  anxiety 
occasioned  by  observing  his  genuine  liking  for  Percy  had 
heavily  re-enforced  a  wild  fear,  which  had  already  besej 
Estwicke,  that  General  Yayne  might,  from  political  preju 
dice,  withhold  his  consent.  These  reflections  had  given 
the  young  man  a  sleepless  night.  But,  with  the  revivify 
ing  matutinal  influences,  he  grew  more  hopeful.  Ha 


812  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  1'OUGHT. 

determined  to  put  it  to  the  test  at  once  —  to  make  the 
attack  all  along  the  line.  He  argued  within  himself  that 
this  friendship  for  his  rival  was  not  of  necessity  inimical 
to  his  interest,  and,  as  to  his  principles  and  his  position  in 
the  army,  even  when  the  war  was  at  its  fiercest,  enamoured 
Yankee  officers  did  not,  as  a  rule,  find  the  cruel  papas  of 
the  South  so  very  obdurate. 

Perhaps  it  was  well  that  he  could  not  divine,  as  he 
made  his  demonstration,  the  amazement  it  excited  in  Gen 
eral  Vayne,  whose  latest  impressions  of  his  guest  were  from 
the  witness-stand  in  the  Jartree  case.  His  long  absence 
from  home  had  precluded  all  suspicion  of  the  little 
romance  recently  dramatized  here.  He  had  never 
thought  to  ask  if  that  forced  invitation  to  the  fishing- 
party  had  been  accepted  —  for  this  had  seemed  out  of 
the  question  —  and  he  had  supposed  that  until  last  even 
ing  Estwicke  had  not  again  been  to  the  house.  He  was 
possessed  by  a  towering  incredulity  when  a  modest  allu 
sion  was  made  to  his  daughter's  gracious  acceptance  of 
the  devotion  offered  her,  and  with  difficulty  restrained 
himself  from  telling  the  young  man,  from  the  plenitude 
of  paternal  wisdom,  that  he  must  be  mistaken.  But 
when  General  Vayne  once  realized  the  situation,  he 
quickly  came  to  his  conclusion.  Marcia  was  too  young, 
far  too  young,  to  know  her  own  mind.  He  determined 
to  put  his  foot  down  on  this  engagement  at  once.  He 
believed  Estwicke  a  coarse-natured,  hard,  cold,  callous 
man,  to  whom  no  woman's  happiness  could  be  safely 
committed.  He  was  always  convinced  of  the  justness 
of  his  decisions;  but  he  recognized  a  certain  awkward 
ness  here,  for  he  could  not  put  this  into  words.  In  de 
cency  he  could  not  tell  a  man  who  had  just  paid  Marcia 
the  highest  compliment  in  his  power  that  he  was  so  con 
temptuously  considered.  The  puzzled  father  cast  about 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  313 

vainly  for  some  plausible  alternative.  Even  he  appre 
ciated  the  inconsistency  that  so  unprejudiced  and  tem 
perate  a  thinker  as  he  deemed  himself  should  base  a 
grave  objection  on  political  differences.  Estwicke's  posi 
tion  in  the  army  offered,  however,  a  vague  elusive  prospect 
of  extrication  from  this  dilemma.  General  Vayne  honestly 
did  not  think  Marcia's  happiness  would  be  promoted  by 
going  some  time  to  the  frontier  with  a  husband  liable 
to  be  scalped  any  fine  day.  And  he  felt,  with  a  sudden 
strong  rush  of  emotion,  that  he  would  not  intrust  her  to 
any  man  —  any  man  —  so  far  away.  His  humane  intention 
was  to  keep  his  son-in-law  as  much  as  possible  under  his 
own  eye  —  the  average  son-in-law  would  probably  rather 
risk  the  Indians.  But  Captain  Estwicke  might  offer  to 
resign ;  for  aught  General  Vayne  knew  he  was  a  man  of 
fortune,  and  his  pay  the  merest  superfluity.  Thus  the 
strategist  determined  he  would  not  advance  an  objection 
that  could  be  so  summarily  swept  away. 

To  one  whose  tact  and  policy  are,  in  his  own  opinion, 
boundless,  no  embarrassment  need  last  long.  General 
Vayne  resolved,  autocratically,  that  he  would  assign  no 
reason  for  withholding  his  consent;  he  would  merely 
intimate  to  Estwicke  that  his  addresses  were  not  accep 
table,  and  no  doubt  the  young  man  would  at  once  with 
draw. 

In  projecting  plans  of  action,  General  Vayne  took 
slight  note  of  the  volition  of  others.  Experience  taught 
him  nothing,  and  he  had  occasion  for  great  surprise  when 
Estwicke  urgently  pressed  for  the  reasons  of  the  refusal, 
justifying  his  persistence  by  the  altogether  unexpected 
argument  that  his  dearest  interests  were  at  stake.  And 
now  was  presented  the  striking  and  unique  spectacle  of 
one  man  eagerly  insisting  that  another  should  insult  him, 
which  the  other  politely  but  firmly  declined  to  do. 


311  WHEKB  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

They  were  restrained  in  manner,  voice,  and  word  by 
the  rigid  decrees  of  the  conventionalities,  but,  neverthe 
less,  in  their  opposing  determination  they  fretted  each 
other  like  a  pair  of  fiery  horses. 

In  the  subsequent  interview  with  Marcia  it  was  still 
more  difficult  for  Estwicke  to  cloak  his  indignation. 

"  Your  father  will  not  give  his  consent,"  he  said  briefly. 

A  startled  expression  sprang  into  her  eyes.     "  Why  ?  " 

"  He  vouchsafed  no  reason !  "  cried  Estwicke  with  angry 
sarcasm.  "  When  I  had  the  audacity  to  ask  for  his  rea 
son,  he  said  that  it  was  not  necessary  to  discuss  the  matter 
further,  and  that  he  hoped  I  would  consider  it  definitively 
settled." 

Marcia  walked  in  silence  to  a  chair  and  sat  down, 
revolving  in  her  mind  the  unexpected  complication,  and 
hardly  sure  of  what  she  felt  and  thought  in  the  shock  of 
the  surprise. 

The  library  was  dim  and  shadowy,  for  the  blinds  excluded 
the  sunbeams,  except  one  glittering  marauder  that  forced 
an  entrance  through  a  crevice  and  raided  fantastically 
about  the  room  when  the  wind  stirred  the  vines  outside. 
Now  the  bright  gleam  touched  the  girl's  hair,  now  it 
shimmered  over  the  fluted  petal-like  ruffles  of  her  dress, 
and  now  it  flitted  across  her  face  as  she  looked  up  at  Est 
wicke,  who  stood  opposite  her,  leaning  with  one  elbow  on 
the  mantel-piece  and  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Marcia,  with  a  sinking  heart  and  a 
keen  despair,  "  it 's  because  your  politics  are  all  wrong." 

His  feelings  were  so  deeply  involved  that  he  did  not 
recent  even  this  sweeping  imputation  of  wholesale  error. 

•«•  I  '11  vote  for  Genghis  Khan  if  he  wishes ! "  he  declared 
impetuously.  "I'll  swear  allegiance  to  the  king  of 
Dahomey !  I  '11  renounce  every  political  and  religious 
conviction.  But  I  can't  believe  that's  the  reason,"  ho 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  315 

added  more  calmly.  "We  might  as  well  imagine  it's 
because  I  don't  belong  to  the  church." 

"  What  do  you  think  is  the  reason,  then  ?  " 

In  all  Estwicke's  efforts  and  schemes  the  cohesive 
element  of  policy  was  lacking.  And  thus  his  life  was  full 
of  rugged  incongruities;  there  were  great  rifts  in  his 
friendships ;  and  now,  all  unconsciously,  he  was  driving 
that  wedge  of  tactless  speech  in  among  his  own  heart 
strings. 

"  It  is  very  plain,"  he  said  bluntly,  "  he  wants  you  to 
marry  Percy." 

"I  should  be  glad,  Captain  Estwicke,"  cried  Marcia 
angrily,  "  if  I  could  never  hear  you  call  that  man's  name 
igain." 

"  Well,  forgive  me  this  time.  I  'm  not  jealous  about 
your  feeling  for  Percy,  now"  stipulated  Estwicke.  "I 
have  given  that  up." 

Which  was  indeed  true,  as  his  every  faculty  was  ab 
sorbed  in  apprehensive  jealousy  on  account  of  her  father's 
feeling  for  Percy. 

He  turned  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  eyed  it  for  a  moment 
with  exceeding  bitterness.  When  he  again  looked  down 
at  her,  he  detected  something  in  the  expression  of  her 
face  which  gave  him  a  sudden  comprehension  of  the 
manner  in  which  she  regarded  her  father's  opposition. 
For  once  in  his  life  he  was  not  precipitate.  The  knowl 
edge  of  all  he  had  at  stake  steadied  him.  He  sat  down 
near  her.  "  Tell  me,  Marcia,"  he  said,  with  a  calmness  that 
Bub-acutely  astonished  him,  "  Tell  me  that  all  this  shall  not 
make  any  difference  between  us.  Shall  it,  dearest  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied  softly. 

He  felt  a  thrill  of  infinite  relief.  He  leaned  forward 
and  caught  both  her  hands  in  his.  "  And  if  you  marry 
oae  now,  at  once,"  he  began,  more  confidently. 


816  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

There  was  a  flash  of  astonishment  in  her  eyes.  She 
drew  back  suddenly. 

"  I  only  meant  —  that  —  that  I  can  never  care  for  any 
one  else ;  but  I  could  n't  be  married  without  papa's  con 
sent  ;  how  can  you  think  it  ?  " 

Estwicke  did  not  intend  to  be  tragic  or  theatrical,  but 
his  manner  as  he  dropped  her  hand  and  walked  away  to 
the  window  would  have  done  him  credit  on  any  stage. 
Presently,  however,  he  came  and  stood  opposite  to  her, 
leaning  against  the  mantel-piece  once  more. 

"If  your  father  would  advance  any  objection  in  which 
sensible  people  could  acquiesce,"  he  argued,  "I  might 
understand  the  position  you  take.  But  he  has  no  objec 
tion.  It  is  because  he  prefers  Percy.  Don't  break  my 
heart,  Marcia." 

"Papa  would  never  forgive  me — never.  But  don't 
say  I  break  your  heart.  You  must  wait,  and  be  cheerful 
while  you  wait.  And  if  he  does  not  change  at  last,  you 
must  forget  it  all.  I  don't  mind  being  miserable,  much." 
Her  lips  quivered.  "  But  you  —  you  must  be  happy !  " 

In  discussing  the  subject  with  her  father  that  afternoon, 
Marcia  was  not  so  dutiful  as  she  had  been  in  his  absence. 

"  I  think  you  were  needlessly  rude  to  Captain  Estwicke," 
she  said. 

General  Vayne  had  tried  to  shirk  the  interview,  fearing 
an  unpleasant  scene.  Even  now  he  had  his  papers  before 
him  on  the  table,  and  had  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink.  He 
made  no  reply,  and  did  not  raise  his  eyes. 

"  I  don't  intend  to  marry  Horace  Percy,"  continued 
Marcia.  "  It  is  useless,  papa,  for  you  to  insist." 

Now  indeed  her  father  looked  up.  "  And  pray,"  he 
said,  with  cold  constraint,  "  who  told  you  that  I  wanted 
you  to  marry  Horace  Percy  ?  " 

"Captain  Estwicke,"  promptly  replied  the  guileless 
Marcia. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  317 

She  was  not  prepared  for  the  effect  of  her  words.  In 
the  instantaneous  change  on  her  father's  face  she  saw 
in  astonishment  that  he  was  deeply  offended.  She  had  so 
little  knowledge  of  the  sordid  ways  of  the  world  that  it 
did  not  occur  to  her  that  there  could  be  any  preference 
between  Percy  and  Estwicke,  save  that  which  her  heait 
might  dictate.  In  a  normal  state  of  affairs  General 
Vayne  would  have  been  equally  free  from  imagining  that 
any  one  would  attribute  to  him  mercenary  motives. 
Lately,  however,  he  had  been  greatly  harried  and  pressed 
to  the  wall  by  his  debts ;  he  knew  that  even  a  stranger  in 
the  town  could  not  remain  unaware  of  his  financial 
straits;  his  anxieties  had  made  his  sensibilities  tender, 
and  in  a  flash  he  ascribed  to  Estwicke  that  unworthy 
suspicion.  He  resented  it  as  he  would  have  resented  a 
blow.  He  could  have  forgiven  it  as  readily. 

"  I  have  nothing  whatever  to  say  to  you  about  Horace 
Percy,"  he  replied.  "  And  only  this  about  Captain  Est 
wicke —  that  if  you  do  not  break  this  engagement  you 
will  disobey  the  first  positive  command  I  have  ever  seen 
fit  to  give  you." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  angry  with  me,  papa,"  she  said. 
Her  fair  young  face  was  full  of  trouble ;  there  was  a  sug 
gestion  of  unshed  tears  in  her  heavy  eyelids.  He  was  a 
trifle  softened  as  he  glanced  toward  her.  "  And  I  don 't 
see  why  you  are  so  prejudiced  against  Captain  Estwicke," 
she  continued. 

He  hardened  instantly.  "I  don't  care  to  discuss  the 
matter  further,"  he  said.  "  And  I  am  busy  now." 

But  when  she  had  left  the  room  he  pushed  the  papers 
from  him,  and  leaned  back  idly  in  his  chair  —  not  even 
his  tangled  financial  tribulations  could  operate  as  a 
counter-irritant.  He  had  never  been  so  deeply  stung, 
this  ci-devant  magnate  and  millionaire,  as  by  the  fancied 


318  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

imputation  that  he  would  scheme  to  prop  his  fallen  for- 
tunes  by  marrying  off  his  daughter  to  a  rich  man.  It 
was  intolerable  that  this  gross  slur  should  be  cast  upon 
him.  And  he  had  never  known  so  strong  an  emotion  as 
the  repugnance  it  induced  for  Captain  Estwicke. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

RAFFT  BEALE  had  skulked  back  from  the  jail  to 
his  old  burrow  in  the  huge  traverse.  His  sense  of 
liberty  expressed  itself  only  in  the  fact  that  he  was  free 
to  lie  here  in  the  deep  glooms  under  the  earth  as  if  he 
were  dead.  Through  the  jagged  fissure,  where  once  was 
the  door  of  the  powder-magazine,  he  had  no  glimpse  of 
the  midsummer  world  save  a  narrow  section  of  the  parapet 
on  which  the  lavished  blood  had  bloomed  so  splendidly  in 
trumpet-flowers.  To  his  upward  glance  they  defined 
themselves  gorgeously  against  the  blue  sky,  where  some- 
tunes  a  pale  poetic  moon  swung  among  them  in  the  full 
glare  of  the  yellow  sunshine.  A  bird  might  flit  by ;  the 
grasshoppers  drowsily  droned;  lizards  basked.  When 
the  sky  grew  gold,  and  purple,  and  faintly  green,  behind 
those  swaying  red  blossoms,  he  looked  up  to  see  the  even 
ing  star  in  the  amber  haze,  and  it  looked  down  to  see  the 
haggard  misery  in  his  mowing  face.  Sometimes  a  moon 
beam  stole  to  the  fissure,  and  the  mists  entered  into 
fellowship  with  him,  and  they  inhabited  the  powder- 
magazine  together.  When  they  fell  to  shifting  and  shim- 
nering,  and  asserting  weird  forms  in  the  dusky  dreariness ; 
vhen  a  strange  tumult  sprang  up  all  along  the  parapets ; 
when  the  tramp  of  inarching  hosts  and  the  clash  of  arms 
shook  the  earth  ;  when  the  whirling  wheels  of  the  light  artil 
lery  went  by  on  the  wind  ;  when  all  the  night  broke  forth 
with  those  strange  lipless  shrieks  of  the  dead,  with  the  blare 

319 


320  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS    FOUGHT. 

of  their  bugles,  with  the  roll  of  their  drums,  he  shivered  and 
trembled,  and  turned  his  grimacing  face  to  the  wall.  But 
the  ghosts  had  done  him  no  harm  —  and  in  these  days 
they  seemed  nearer  akin  than  the  living. 

Now  that  his  terrors  of  the  law  were  over,  he  had 
developed  in  the  reaction  a  morbid  shrinking  from  the 
world,  and  his  griefs  —  they  were  many  —  renewed  their 
.power.  He  said  there  was  no  place  for  him  —  he  wanted 
no  food,  no  drink,  no  home.  He  would  waste  out  his  life, 
wear  it  out,  offer  it  in  expiation,  here. 

Days  had  passed  since  he  had  heard  a  stir  close  at  hand 
other  than  the  flutter  of  a  bird  or  a  rabbit's  leaping  rush. 
Suddenly  there  sounded,  on  the  parapet  without,  hesitat 
ing  footsteps,  heavy  panting,  the  sharp  cracking  of  brush 
and  weeds,  which  indicated  a  struggle  with  the  brambles. 
He  rose  from  the  ground,  tremulous  and  weak,  and,  hold 
ing  in  his  hand  his  wool  hat,  which  had  the  best  of  reasons 
for  being  fresh  and  unfaded  by  the  sun,  he  stepped  out 
through  the  fissure.  The  light  struck  full  upon  his  yellow 
hair,  that  was  as  fine  and  soft  as  a  woman's,  and  gave  out 
a  glimmer  like  burnished  gold.  As  he  turned  his  head 
upward  there  was  something  ineffably  repugnant  in  his 
pitiful,  jail-bleached,  mowing  face.  But  delighted  recog 
nition  resounded  in  the  shrill  cry  set  up  suddenly  on  the 
parapet  —  there  was  a  great  scuffling  under  the  black 
berry  bushes,  and  a  dirty,  tattered,  tow-headed  urchin 
came  sliding,  with  an  avalanche  of  dislodged  stones,  down 
the  steep  interior  slope. 

"  They  tole  me  ter  fotch  ye ! "  he  piped  out  tumultu- 
ously  on  a  high  key.  Then  he  sat  down  on  the  tread  of 
lh:.  banquette,  placed  his  hands  on  either  knee,  and  drew 
a  iong  breath.  His  attention  was  abruptly  arrested  by 
the  sight  of  the  sun-blanched  skull  of  a  noble  charger, 
fl  .ng  here,  perhaps,  when  upturned  by  the  plough  in  the 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  321 

fields  without,  The  boy's  curious  eye  detected  the  minie 
ball  still  half  embedded  in  the  splintered  bone.  He 
glanced  over  his  shoulder,  furtively,  fearfully,  for  the 
unseen  terrors  that  lurked  about  the  place.  "Why n't 
ye  go  'way  from  hyar,  now  that  ye  air  out'n  jail?"  he 
demanded  impatiently. 

Graffy  said  nothing.  He  was  only  wondering  vaguely 
why  Pickie  Tait  should  have  sought  him  here.  The  boy 
was  called  "  Pickie "  by  reason  of  a  certain  deft  accom 
plishment  of  picking  and  stealing,  sometimes  —  "Quick 
Pickie ; "  he  was  the  hardiest  urchin  in  the  county,  and 
all  the  juvenile  iniquity  perpetrated  within  five  miles  was 
easily  traced  to  his  door.  "  Waal,"  he  observed,  wiping 
his  hot,  dirty  face  with  his  tattered  shirt-sleeve,  "  I  ain't 
a-goin'  through  these  hyar  harnted  forts  agin  by  myself, 
ye  hear  me !  Like  ter  hev  been  skeered  ter  death  fower 
or  five  times  whilst  I  war  a-gittin'  hyar.  The  folks  hev 
sent  fur  ye  ter  kem  an'  play  the  fiddle  at  the  infair.  Las' 
night  they  scoured  the  country,  mighty  riigh,  ter  git  a-holt 
o'  ye  in  time  ter  play  the  fiddle  fur  Jeemes  Blake's  wed- 
din'.  They  rid  hyar,  an'  they  rid  thar  !  Nobody  knowed 
whar  ye  be." 

He  cocked  up  his  sharp  eye  reprehensively.  Then  he 
rose,  went  nimbly  to  the  old  powder  magazine,  and  peered 
in  with  amicable  curiosity.  "Got  yer  fiddle  in  thar?" 
he  asked,  looking  back  over  his  shoulder  and  nodding 
gayly,  his  broad  mouth  a-grin. 

"Ye-es."  The  man  flung  out  the  word  between  his 
chattering  teeth  and  his  unruly  muscles.  "  The  fiddle  is 
thar." 

"  I  '11  tote  it,"  said  the  boy  officiously.  He  treated  his 
red,  round  face  to  another  smear  from  his  ragged  sloeve. 
Thtfn  he  cut  a  wiry  caper,  kicking  up  a  festive  heel. 
*  Kem  on  !  "  he  cried  imperiously.  "  They  say  that  no\v 


322  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

ez  ye  air  out  'n  jail  ye  hev  got  ter  play  the  fiddle  at  the 
infair." 

And  Graffy  followed. 

Perhaps  it  was  by  way  of  making  her  flout  at  humanity 
more  complete,  of  pointing  her  grim  jest,  that  Nature  en- 
cased  a  great  gift  here  —  a  gift  that  should  be  as  useless, 
as  unavailing  as  a  wayside  weed.  But  like  the  wayside 
weed,  it  throve  mightily  in  sterile  conditions  where  naught 
else  might  grow. 

His  wild,  barbaric  melodies  came  to  him  as  the  wind 
comes ;  no  one  knows  how,  nor  whence.  They  were  a 
defiance  of  science,  but  in  their  spontaneous  ecstasy  they 
swayed,  they  thrilled,  they  held.  In  the  midst  of  the  in- 
fair  that  night,  when  their  passionate,  tumultuous,  shiver 
ing  chords  set  all  the  midnight  a-quiver,  the  strong  rapture 
of  his  rude  art  once  more  laid  hold  upon  his  heart,  and  it 
grew  warm  again.  As  he  sat  on  the  cabin  porch,  his  un 
naturally  white  cheek  pressed  to  the  instrument,  his  eyes 
were  fixed  sometimes  on  the  stars  which  seemed  to  throb 
in  sympathy  with  the  rhythmic  vibrations  of  the  strings, 
sometimes  on  the  red  interior,  where  the  dancing  figures 
of  young  men  and  girls  whirled  in  a  cloud  of  dust  that 
was  idealized  into  a  golden  haze  by  the  soft  light  of  the 
kerosene  lamp.  Merry  guffaws  proceeded  from  the  elders, 
ranged  against  the  wall  or  thronging  the  cooler  porch, 
where  they  smoked  and  spat  profusely  through  the  white 
and  lilac  blossoms  of  the  luxuriant  jack-bean,  and  among 
the  yellow  globes  of  the  gourd  vines  which  climbed  to 
the  roof.  Once  there  burst  forth  from  the  violin  a 
strain  so  rapturous,  so  poignantly  beautiful  that  its 
effect  was  like  that  of  some  impassioned  eloquence. 
A  slow,  white-haired  codger,  the  bridegroom's  father, 
paused  in  lighting  his  pipe,  and  let  the  match  burn  to 
his  fingers,  while  he  stared  at  the  instrument  and  the 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  323 

uncouth  musician.  "Graffy  do  fairly  make  that  fiddle 
talk ! "  he  exclaimed. 

When  the  bow  paused,  and  the  reel  was  finished,  and 
the  elders  made  way  for  the  over-heated  young  people  to 
get  out  into  the  air  and  walk  in  couples,  arm  in  arm,  up 
and  down  the  dusty  turnpike,  or  flivt  and  make  love  under 
the  apple-trees,  or  sit  —  a  noisy,  hilarious  crew  —  on  the 
rickety  steps,  this  man,  the  host,  sauntered  up  to  the 
musician. 

"  S'prisin'  how  ye  play,  Graffy,"  he  remarked  affably. 

Graffy  looked  down  at  the  violin  and  twanged  the 
strings.  "Toler'ble  well,"  he  admitted,  in  his  shrill, 
gasping  voice,  "  cornsiderin'  I  never  hed  no  showin'." 

"  Shucks !  showin'  's  nothin' !  "  said  the  old  man,  with 
that  supreme  contempt  for  science  so  characteristic  of 
ignorance. 

"I  hearn  tell  in  town,"  said  a  black-bearded,  jeans-clad 
fellow  lounging  against  a  post  close  by,  "  ez  Patton  —  I 
don't  mean  Bob ;  I  speaks  of  his  brother  Jim,  the  jailer  — 
waal,  Jim  say  ez  he  air  a-tryin'  mighty  hard  ter  put  up 
some  sort'n  job  on  ye  ter  git  ye  an'  yer  fiddle  back  thar 
agin.  He  say  they  air  all  mighty  lonesome  round  them 
diggin's  now,  sure.  He  say  they  all  'low  ez  ye  would  n't 
know  it  fur  the  same  place.  He  say  ye  kin  play  all  sorts 
o'  chunes  out  o'  yer  own  head.  He  say  ye  kin  even  play 
hyme  chunes  wonderful." 

The  musician  glanced  from  one  to  the  other,  his  pallid, 
grimacing  face  indistinctly  seen  in  the  light  from  within 
the  door.  They  might  not  know  if  he  smiled,  but  he 
twanged  at  the  string  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  receives 
a  compliment. 

"  I'd  a-reckoned  ye'd  hev  furgot  how  ter  play  all  them 
months  ez  ye  war  a-hidin'  out,"  said  the  black-bearded 
man.  "  Ye  never  tetched  yer  bow  then,  I'll  bet,  fur  enny 


824  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

fool  would  know  yer  whank  from  enny  other  man's  saw« 
ing,  ez  fur  ez  they  could  hear  it." 

Even  Graffy's  face,  debarred  though  it  seemed  of  ex 
pression,  changed  subtly.  He  took  the  fiddle  and  began 
to  turn  it  about  mechanically. 

"  That  was  a  mighty  queer  dodge  ennyhow,  yer  hidin' 
out,"  said  the  rough,  black-bearded  man,  whose  coarse 
disregard  of  the  other's  sensibilities  was  perhaps  uninten 
tional.  "Ye  ought  ter  hev  lef  the  thing  ter  men  at 
fust,"  he  pursued  didactically.  "  That 's  jestice.  Ye  hev 
ter  leave  sech  questions  ter  men.  I  can't  understan'  how 
ye  hed  grit  enough  ter  face  shot  an'  shell  in  the  old  war 
times,  an'  now  ye  air  afeard  ter  leave  things  ter  men." 

"  Whar  hev  ye  been  stayin'  sence  ye  been  out  —  at 
Tom's?"  asked  the  host. 

"  No,"  gasped  Graffy ;  "  Tom  an'  me  hev  bruk." 

"I  hearn,"  said  the  black-bearded  man,  animatedly 
retailing  the  gossip,  "ez  how  Tom  hev  never  said  nare 
word  ter  ye  sence  he  was  took ;  they  say  he  warned  Pat- 
ton  't  warn't  safe  ter  leave  ye  an'  him  tergether,  kase  he  'd 
do  ye  a  damage,  sure ;  they  say  he  hev  jes'  gin  ye  up  an' 
cast  ye  off." 

"  Laws-a-massy !  "  exclaimed  the  master  of  the  house, 
upon  this  dramatic  recital,  "I  dunno  what  ails  Tom 
Toole,  to  sot  hisself  up  ez  better 'n  Graffy  Beale." 

"  I  s'pose  he  thinks  Graffy  fetched  all  his  troubles  on 
him,"  said  the  black-bearded  man  dispassionately. 

"  Ef  he  hed  a  mind  ter  renounce  ye  he  oughter  hev 
done  it  a-fust,"  declared  the  old  codger.  "  Then  he  'd  'a' 
been  cl'ar  o'  blame  an'  trouble  too.  That 's  like  Tom 
Tool  3  —  do  all  he  kin  fur  a-body,  an'  grudge  it  arterward. 
But  law !  we  hain't  got  time  to  be  a-talkin'  'bout  sech  ez 
that.  The  folks  air  on  the  floor  agin,  standin'  up  ter 
dance.  They  all  look  powerful  peart,  an'  spry,  an' 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  325 

straight,  don't  they  ?  "  He  admiringly  surveyed  the  two 
rows  of  rosy-faced  young  rustics  through  the  gleaming 
haze  of  dust.  "  I  'm  mightily  afeard,  though,  that  hell  is 
a-gapin'  fur  'em." 

"  Shucks !  They  're  young  yit,"  said  the  black-bearded 
man,  too  leniently  for  the  "  perfessin'  member  "  and  anti- 
dancing  theorist  that  he  was. 

"  Jes'  fryin'  size,  I  'm  thinkin',"  chuckled  the  old  fel 
low.  "  Play  up,  Graffy ;  gin  'em  a  good  chime  ter 
dance  ter  the  devil  by.  That 's  edzactly  whar  ye  air  all 
bound  fur,"  he  added,  raising  his  voice,  as  he  leaned 
through  the  open  door  and  admonished  the  young  people 
with  a  gesticulatory,  skinny  forefinger.  "Play  up, 
Graffy,  an'  let  'em  dance  ter  the  devil." 

So  Graffy  played  up. 

The  freshness  of  dawn  and  dew  was  in  the  air  when 
he  was  tramping  along  the  turnpike.  Only  by  degrees 
the  fences  on  either  hand  detached  themselves  from  the 
dense  gloom.  The  sad,  gray  light  made  day  seem  hardly 
less  drear  than  darkness.  But  in  the  distance  a  purple 
mass,  which  he  knew  was  Fort  Despair,  slowly  outlined 
itself  against  a  faintly  roseate  suffusion  in  the  east,  that 
was  deepening  and  reddening  all  along  the  horizon. 
Suddenly  it  expanded  into  a  myriad  of  divergent  lines, 
that  shot  up  into  the  sky,  quivering  from  red  into  the 
purest  gold,  then  into  a  dazzling  white  effulgence  that  the 
eye  might  not  gaze  upon.  The  birds  burst  into  song,  the 
wind  rose,  and  for  a  mile  throughout  the  level  country  he 
could  see  the  jagged  line  of  the  works  take  the  first  ben 
edictory  touch  of  the  sun. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  matutinal  purity  and  peace  that 
rested  upon  the  land,  less  like  holiness  than  forgiveness, 
which  revived  in  him  a  yearning  to  which  he  thought  he 
had  grown  callous.  He  watched  for  a  long  time,  from  the 


326  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

opposite  bank  of  the  river,  the  smoke  stealing  timorously 
up  from  Tom  Toole's  log-cabin,  and  when  the  first  wag 
oner  of  the  day  came  down  the  turnpike  and  hallooed 
lustily  for  the  ferryman,  he,  too,  went  to  the  water's  edge 
and  waited  for  the  boat. 

"  I  '11  be  fixed  nigher  arter  this,  an'  kin  hear  folks  call," 
said  the  new  ferryman  apologetically  to  the  teamster. 
"  Tom  Toole  gits  out  'n  his  house  terday,  an'  I  gits  in 
termorrow.  Mighty  ill-convenient  it 's  been  fur  me  at  my 
brother's  place,  way  down  yander  round  the  bend." 

When  Graffy  had  trudged  up  the  steep  bank,  he  paused 
and  laid  his  hand  on  Toole's  door ;  then  he  looked  back 
over  his  shoulder  at  the  cruel  old  redoubt,  with  its  flaunt 
ing  flowers,  its  darting  birds,  and  the  grace  of  the  sun 
shine  upon  it.  The  memory  of  all  that  had  come  and 
gone  swept  over  him  tumultuously,  and  he  turned  away 
without  a  sign. 

He  vacillated  when  he  was  again  in  the  road;  he 
glanced  at  the  house ;  he  turned  toward  it ;  once  more  he 
turned  away,  shaking  his  head  tremulously  and  smiting 
his  hands  together. 

He  was  sitting,  when  at  last  Toole  opened  the  door,  on 
a  rock  beside  the  milestone,  mowing  and  grimacing  at 
the  house  like  an  ugly  dream.  The  burly  master  of  the 
cabin  stood  staring,  his  tawny  head  unkempt,  his  great 
beard  streaming  tangled  upon  his  breast,  a  lowering, 
dogged,  dangerous  look  usurping  the  surprise  in  his  eyes. 

But  the  sight  of  Toole  intensified  the  longing  that  had 
seemed  to  wear  itself  out  in  the  hardships  of  prison  and 
the  loneliness  and  despair  of  the  old  powder-magazine. 
Now  it  asserted  its  redoubled  force. 

"  Oh,  Tom,"  quavered  Graffy,  extending  his  long,  deft 
fingers  that  were  unnaturally  white,  too,  "I  hev  kem 
hyar  ter  shake  hands  with  ye  afore  ye  goes  away.  Ye 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  327 

bev  done  too  much  fur  me  ter  grudge  me  that.  I  never 
knowed  how  't  would  end  —  fur  her  —  no  more  'n  ye  did. 
What  ye  hev  done,  an'  tried  ter  do  fur  me,  air  wuth  all 
my  life's  work,  an'  more,  too,  —  more,  too." 

"  Yer  life's  work !  "  cried  Toole  bitterly.  "  Yer  life's 
work  air  them  two  graves  what  ye  hev  holped  ter  fill. 
When  ye  gits  ter  studyin'  'bout  me,  go  look  at  them." 

And  he  shut  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  great  sun  that  went  down  over  tne  vast  sweeps 
of  the  battle-field,  and  slipped  into  the  dawning 
day  lying  in  wait  beyond  the  wide  horizon,  had  a  potent 
solemnity  and  majestic  breadth  of  effect,  which  were  lack 
ing  hi  the  sunsets  of  the  mountains,  despite  their  melan 
choly.  Here  all  nature  besides  was  subordinate  to  the 
everlasting  hills.  The  dark,  mysterious,  heavily-wooded 
Cumberland  spurs  cancelled  the  rest  of  the  universe. 
They  piled,  one  above  another,  their  long,  craggy,  hori 
zontal  barriers  against  the  clouds,  and  limited  the  infinite 
sky.  The  sun  was  dragged  down  beyond  them  before 
the  day  was  done,  leaving  the  afternoon  valley  dominated 
by  their  moody  shadows.  Diana  and  her  hounds  had 
an  up-hill  jog  of  it,  till  they  could  slip  her  silver  leash 
on  the  purple  heights,  and  course  after  the  fleeing  dark 
ness  through  the  wild  world  of  ravine  and  cliff,  roaring 
cataract  and  placid  lick,  tangled  woods  and  scanty  clear 
ing. 

For  it  was  a  wild  world,  so  rugged  and  primeval  of 
aspect  that  it  might  seem  it  was  not  made  for  man.  The 
impression  humanity  left  here  was  slight,  discordant, — 
only  an  alien  incongruity  foisted  upon  the  scene.  The 
savage  fastnesses  were  a  wilderness  still,  although  the 
gay,  flimsy,  many-galleried  buildings  of  a  summer  hotel 
teetered  on  the  verge  of  a  frowning  precipice.  A  cata 
ract,  that  dashed  headlong  down  the  gorge,  charged  with 


WBERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  329 

some  thunderous  message  to  the  forests,  gave  it  voice, 
overwhelming  with  its  sonorous  periods  the  flippant  chat 
ter  of  bevies  of  young  girls,  who,  attended  by  few  and 
highly-prized  cavaliers,  drank  of  the  chalybeate  water  bub 
bling  out  from  the  neighboring  cliffs.  The  cicada  sang 
deep  into  the  night.  Myriads  of  fire-flies  quivered  over 
the  inaccessible  heights  of  the  looming  black  mountain 
opposite,  whence  one  might  hear  the  wildcat  shriek,  while 
the  band  in  the  ball-room  was  playing  a  waltz,  and  the 
throb  of  dancing  feet  kept  time  to  the  rhythmic  strain. 
Nowhere  had  nature  and  art  demonstrated  an  affinity  save 
in  the  fresh,  delicious  fragrance  of  mint  which  lurked 
alike  among  the  abysses  and  on  the  piazzas,  and  rooted 
in  the  mind  a  deep,  immovable  faith  that  somewhere 
there  was  a  julep  in  the  air. 

It  was  an  infinitely  tame  world  to  John  Fortescue. 

"  This  is  the  length  of  my  tether,"  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  saying,  with  an  air  of  resignation.  He  felt  that  there 
was  a  certain  inappropriateness  in  the  presence  of  a  man 
of  his  stamp  and  pretension  at  an  obscure  little  watering- 
place  like  Bandusia  Springs,  for  its  halcyon  days  preceded 
by  ten  years  the  present  summer,  when  it  wtis  timorously 
entering  upon  its  first  season  since  the  war.  Only  the 
fact  of  important  litigation  in  Graftenburg,  which  might 
be  favorably  compromised  at  any  time,  and  necessitate 
his  return  thither  within  twelve  hours  at  a  call  from  his 
counsel,  might  explain  how  he  could  reconcile  himself  to 
the  flat  and  spiritless  conditions  of  existence  here. 

The  place  seemed  the  paradise  of  connubiality.  It 
was  overrun  with  children,  whose  health  was  understood 
to  be  fostered  by  mountain  air  and  mineral  water.  The 
rocks  everywhere  echoed  their  shrill  clamor.  Perambu 
lators  occupied  the  plank  walks,  to  the  confusion  and 
exclusion  of  pedestrians.  The  society  was  largely  com- 


330  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

posed  of  sober,  unimaginative  Benedicts,  who  could 
evolve  no  more  original  idea  of  life  than  the  routine  of 
talking  politics  in  the  morning,  driving  out  in  the  after 
noon,  each  with  his  own  wife,  and  gracing  the  white 
washed  walls  of  the  ball-room  in  the  evening,  solemnly 
watching  the  young  people  dance.  Of  these  young 
people,  the  ladies  were  in  their  teens ;  their  partners,  cal 
low  collegians,  —  callow  enough  to  be  conscious  of  their 
fledgling  state,  and  to  entertain  a  self-immolating  admi 
ration  of  Mr.  Fortescue,  a  man  who  had  progressed  so 
far  up  the  scale  of  being,  and  who  was  so  handsomely 
schooled  by  experience,  as  to  care  nothing  for  the  event 
ful  balls  at  Bandusia.  He  might  hear  only  the  vague 
swing  of  the  waltz  music  in  the  distance,  while  he  con 
soled  his  loneliness  in  the  billiard-room  by  fancy  shots 
that  made  even  the  thoroughly-seasoned  attendant  stare. 
For  they  were  wonderful.  Sometimes  the  youth  of  Ban 
dusia  stood  around  the  table  and  looked  on,  feeling 
effaced  the  while,  since  Fortescue,  although  the  centre 
of  a  crowd,  skilfully  preserved  the  manner  of  being 
alone,  cognizant  only  of  his  own  presence.  He  would 
have  no  opponent  to  quake  before  those  marvellous 
runs  and  stand  aghast  at  his  "nursing,"  so  delicate  and 
dextrous  that  it  rivalled  the  zealous  coddling  of  the  in 
fants  at  connubial  Bandusia;  for,  somewhat  contemp 
tuously,  it  is  true,  he  recognized  the  adolescence  of  his 
spectators. 

"  I  should  like  to  take  a  game  with  you,  Mr.  Fortescue." 
said  a  young  sprig,  one  day,  rendered  reckless  by  that 
potent  elixir,  chalybeate. 

Fortescue  glanced  up  quickly,  his  cue  poised  above  the 
table,  and  the  attitude  displaying  his  fine,  lithe  figure  to 
great  advantage.  "  My  good  young  friend,"  he  exclaimed 
presently,  "  you  discredit  my  humanity." 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  331 

But  there  came  a  day  when  Fortescue's  humanity  was 
lightly  esteemed  at  Bandusia.  That  exuberance  of  noto 
riety  in  which  he  had  flourished  in  New  Orleans,  and 
which  had  so  vexed  the  sensitive  soul  of  Maurice  Bren- 
nett,  had  been  checked  by  the  narrow  restrictions  of  life 
here.  He  seemed  to  the  casual  observer  only  a  quiet 
gentleman,  who,  by  reason  of  a  long  absence  abroad,  had 
become  unacclimated  to  his  native*  New  Orleans,  and, 
pending  the  adjustment  of  business  affairs,  sojourned  in 
these  salubrious  mountains.  Now  and  then  accident 
threw  him  into  the  heavy  company  of  the  other  quiet 
gentlemen  of  the  place.  Under  the  stress  of  his  exile 
from  his  own  accustomed  sphere  he  was  for  a  time  as 
lethargic  as  he  deemed  them.  But  the  singular  fascina 
tion  which  he  was  wont  to  exert  upon  other  men  began, 
even  in  this  trance-like  existence,  to  unconsciously  assert 
its  power.  His  interest  was  half  dormant,  and  he  did 
not  notice,  until  it  grew  very  marked,  the  preference  for 
his  conversation  which  had  been  developed  by  one  of  the 
party,  a  man  of  considerable  prominence  in  business  and 
social  circles,  of  some  mental  and  colloquial  activity,  but 
a  heavy  weight  physically.  They  became  familiar  asso 
ciates  after  Fortescue's  discovery  of  this  predilection. 
They  talked  away  long,  idle  hours,  as  they  lay  at  length 
on  some  fern-covered  slope,  and  watched  the  distant 
mountains  changing  in  the  sunset  from  purest  azure  to  an 
illusory,  amethystine  tint  that  was  itself  a  poem.  They 
smoked  many  a  meditative  cigar  in  the  observatory,  a 
mere  skeleton  of  a  building,  perched  on  the  verge  of 
a  sheer  precipice.  In  company  they  visited  the  stables, 
where,  however,  Mr.  Fortescue  exhibited  more  zeal  and 
knowledge  concerning  horse-flesh  in  general  than  interest 
jn  his  new  acquaintance's  sober,  fat,  sleek  family  trotters ; 
they  cemented  their  friendship  in  the  domestic  circle,  and 


332  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

he  decorously  accepted  the  position  of  a  friend  of  the  fam 
ily.  Often  the  two  were  together  until  late  at  night  in 
Fortescue's  room.  It  was  at  some  little  distance  from  the 
fair  and  flaunting  hotel,  and  situated  in  a  dark,  unlovely, 
unpainted  building,  which  was  consigned  to  the  use  of 
the  bachelor  fraternity,  and  grimly  called  u  St.  Paul's." 
But,  although  still  vulnerable  to  malice,  the  bachelors 
were  out  of  earsho^  of  the  babies. 

Strange  rumors  concerning  these  vigils  got  afloat  some 
how.  Certain  cabalistic  words  drifted  through  the  open 
windows  to  belated  strollers  in  the  woods  below.  But 
the  suspicions  which  seemed  too  grotesque  for  fact  were 
merged  in  certainty  when  a  couple  of  the  callow  young 
sters,  going  out  betimes  on  some  mountain  excursion, 
chanced  to  encounter  this  elderly  wight  as  he  emerged 
from  Mr.  Fortescue's  room.  The  first  sad,  pale  glimmer 
of  dawn  was  straggling  through  the  high,  unwashed 
window  of  the  narrow  hall  and  fell  upon  his  puffy,  red 
face,  that,  despite  its  superabundant  flesh,  had  a  rigidity 
of  aspect.  His  eyes  were  bloodshot;  his  gait  a  trifle 
unsteady ;  he  recoiled  from  the  stare  of  the  bewildered 
boys  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow  in  the  face.  Through 
the  open  door  streamed  the  soft  lamplight,  and  in  its 
midst  was  Fortescue,  fresh,  flushed,  triumphant,  a  pack  of 
cards  in  his  hands,  a  decanter  and  a  couple  of  glasses  on 
the  table  by  which  he  stood,  a  bottle  or  two  rolling 
empty  on  the  floor  beneath  it,  and  a  tense  vibration  of 
elation  in  his  voice. 

"  Your  revenge,  Colonel,  whenever  you  like,"  he  was 
saying.  "I  can't  sympathize,  you  know.  Good  morn 
ing,  gentlemen ; "  and  his  eye  fell  unabashed  on  the 
passers-by.  "But  I  offer  you  all  the  comfort  in  re 
venge —  that  you  can  get." 

And  so  it  came  about  that  the  "  Colonel,"  instead  of 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE    WAS  FOUGHT.  333 

paying  his  board-bills,  was  obliged  to  borrow  the  money 
of  another  Colonel  who  kept  the  hotel,  to  take  his  family 
and  himself  home  in  the  dog-days. 

And  all  Bandusia  was  agog. 

Although  Fortescue  thus  contributed  much  to  the  en 
tertainment  and  excitement  of  the  place,  his  own  idiosyn 
crasies  had  not  with  himself  the  force  of  novelty,  and 
proved  less  edifying.  Bereft  of  the  diversion  of  this 
new  friendship,  his  days  grew  dull.  One  afternoon  he 
was  so  far  reduced  as  to  share  a  petty  interest  that 
swayed  all  Bandusia  at  this  hour :  when  the  cliffs  began 
to  echo  the  mellow  resonance  of  the  stage-horn  from  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  and  the  arrival  of  the  coach,  the 
great  event  of  the  day,  was  expected.  With  his  cue  hi 
his  hand,  he  leaned  out  of  the  window  of  the  billiard- 
room  and  gazed  far  down  the  bosky  recesses  of  the  pre 
cipitous  slopes  where,  now  and  then,  a  gap  in  the  foliage 
gave  glimpses  of  the  winding  road.  The  purple  splendor 
of  the  sunset  glorified  the  distant  mountain-summits; 
they  glowed  transfigured,  like  the  heights  of  heaven. 
Below,  all  along  the  coves  and  ravines,  and  in  the  heavily- 
timbered  valley,  skulked  the  dusky  shadows  of  the  com 
ing  night,  like  troglodytes  emerging  from  the  cavernous 
earth.  A  mist  sifted  through  the  chasms.  Among  the 
wild  tangles  of  "  the  laurel,"  a  cow-bell  jangled  faintly. 
The  cicada's  song  grew  loud.  The  pungent  fragrance  of 
the  humble  herbs,  nestling  by  the  waterside,  drifted  by 
on  the  air  that  throbbed  responsive  to  every  eloquent 
apostrophe  of  the  declamatory  cataract.  Human  voices 
rose  thence  after  a  time,  for  the  rocks  below  the  fall  had 
been  made  by  immemorial  custom  a  resting-place  for 
those  able-bodied  passengers  who  were  constrained,  either 
by  the  tyranny  of  the  stage-driver  or  motives  of  com 
passion  for  his  horses,  to  walk  up  the  mountain.  Some- 


334  WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

thing  in  one  of  these  voices  struck  John  Fortescue  as 
singularly  familiar  —  something  ore  rotundo,  something 
indicative  of  a  benignity  of  patronage,  as  it  descanted  on 
the  sublimity  of  the  scenery;  it  convinced  him  that 
Colonel  Walter  Percy  had,  for  the  present,  forsworn 
condescending  to  his  fellow-men,  and  had  come  to  pat 
Nature  on  the  back  for  a  while.  Thus  the  sight  of  the 
old  man,  pompously  trudging  along  in  advance  of  the 
vehicle,  the  dust  of  his  journey  thick  on  his  hot  red  face, 
his  linen  duster,  his  big  Panama  hat,  and  dimming  the 
lustre  of  his  silver  hair  and  beard,  was  no  surprise  to  the 
sybarite  who,  cool  and  clean,  looked  down  from  the  giddy 
heights  of  the  billiard-room  on  the  summit  of  the  crags, 
waved  his  hand,  and  shouted  out  a  welcome. 

Colonel  Percy  glanced  up  and  bowed  in  response  with 
as  much  dignity  as  it  is  in  human  anatomy  to  bow  up 
ward  vertically.  Then  the  clustering  leaves  enveloped 
him  and  hid  him  from  sight.  Presently  a  heavy  tread  on 
the  steps  of  the  billiard-room  announced  that  he  had 
taken  the  short  cut  thither.  "  I  knew  you  were  at  Ban- 
dusia,"  he  said,  as  he  held  out  his  hand.  "I  heard 
something  to  that  effect ;  yes,  I  heard  so  when  I  was  in 
Graf tenburg  —  the  city." 

Fortescue  supplemented  the  fact  of  his  presence  with 
the  story  of  his  involved  interests,  and  the  tyranny  of  his 
counsel  in  reeling  out  so  little  line.  "  I  find  it  dull  as  the 
grave  here.  But  for  the  fear  of  yellow  fever  I  should  as 
soon  be  in  New  Orleans,  deserted  though  it  is." 

"Why,  —  my  —  dear  —  sir!"  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
with  a  supreme  ridicule  that  might  well  become  a  medical 
authority,  striving  to  dispel  the  vaporings  of  an  ignorant 
superstition,  "  believe  me,  you  can  have  the  yellow  fever 
but  once.  It  is  not  in  human  nature  to  do  that  thing 
twice.  Not  in  human  nature.  No,  sir ! " 


WHEBE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  335 

Fortescue's  face  changed  suddenly.  He  stared  blankly 
at  his  interlocutor,  as  if  some  strong  surprise  or  doubt 
lurked  within  him.  It  was  only  thus  suggested.  In  a 
moment  he  turned  lightly  to  the  table,  bent  down,  and 
with  an  airy  stroke  of  the  cue  sent  a  red  ball  glowing 
across  the  green  cloth. 

"And  you  think  once  isn't  enough,  eh?"  said  the 
elderly  joker,  continuing  to  twinkle  upon  him  with  the 
affable  superiority  of  rallying  laughter.  "  Let  me  see  — 
that  was  in  '39  —  terrible  epidemic !  I  was  going  down, 
by  invitation,  to  your  father's  place  for  safety  —  Patu- 
rin  —  yes,  the  plantation  —  met  a  runner  to  stop  me  — 
the  fever  had  appeared  in  the  family  —  yes  —  you,  and 
your  sister  Estelle,  and  your  mother,  and  —  let  me  see  — > 
no  —  no  —  your  father  had  it  before  —  years  before. 
They  had  my  sympathy  —  my  dearest  sympathy.  I 
wrote  to  them.  I  did  write.  But  I  pledge  you  my 
honor  I  accepted  no  more  invitations  to  Paturin  for  a 
season.  Cure  means  future  exemption.  You  need  never 
shun  New  Orleans." 

But  Fortescue,  still  knocking  the  balls  about  on  the 
table,  said  that  nevertheless  he  was  afraid.  And  when 
he  lifted  his  face  he  looked  afraid. 

The  old  gentleman,  however,  was  now  absorbed  in  a 
budget  of  envelopes,  which  he  drew  slowly  and  magiste 
rially  from  his  pocket,  closely  scanning  the  superscription 
of  each.  "  I  had  the  pleasure,  sir,"  he  said,  detaching  his 
attention  with  difficulty  from  the  papers,  "  of  meeting  — 
before  I  quitted  Graf tenburg  —  a  gentleman  —  ah,  is  this 
jt  ?  —  no  —  a  gentleman  who  has  some  connection  with 
you  in  business  matters.  He  sought  an  introduction  to 
me  through  the  kind  offices  of  —  of  —  what  have  I 
here? — of  Mr.  Maurice  Brennett." 

Once  more  Fortescue's  manner  and  attitude  changed. 


336  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

That  strong,  fully  vitalized  look  was  in  his  eyes  again. 
Its  spirit  was  expressed  in  every  gesture.  "  Is  Mr.  Bren- 
nett  in  Graf tenburg  ?  "  he  asked  eagerly,  disregardful  of 
the  vague  gentleman  who  had  business  with  him,  and 
who  had  apparently  sent  him  some  token  which  Colonel 
Percy  was  striving  to  separate  from  the  chaos  of  his  own 
correspondence. 

"He  was  there  only  for  a  day,"  Colonel  Percy 
answered,  still  dexterously  shuffling  his  letters  as  if  he  were 
stocking  cards ;  "  let  me  see,  —  the  day  of  his  encounter 
with  Mr.  Travis." 

"  An  encounter  with  Travis ! "  Fortescue  exclaimed 
sharply. 

The  old  man's  hands  were  still,  and  he  looked  up, 
laughing  with  a  sort  of  cumbrous  slyness. 

"  Aha !  you  see,  when  you  tell  the  world  good-by,  and 
say,  « I  have  done  with  you,  —  you  baking,  broiling  planet, 

—  I  go  for  my  good  pleasure  to  the  cool  retreat  of  sylvan 
shades,' — the  first  whiff  of  a  mundane  sensation  makes 
you  quite  ready  to  get  back  into  the  frying-pan  and  stand 
the  temperature  for  the  sake  of  the  company,  —  take  a 
hand,  as  it  were,  in  this  little  sublunary  game,  which  we 
call  life.     Chip  along,  —  yes,  chip  along." 

Somehow  the  propinquity  of  Mr.  Fortescue  suggested 
this  wicked  phrasing,  and  the  old  man  repeated  it  with 
the  relish  of  feeling  in  a  degree  up  to  snuff.  "  Chip  along 

—  yes.     Well,  sir ;  well,  they  contrived  to  keep  this  alter 
cation  out  of  the  papers,  —  the  public  prints.     Still  it  was 
notorious.     Deeply  regretted  by  the  friends  of  both  gen 
tlemen —  although    Mr.    Brennett    was    popularly   held 
blameless  in  the  matter.     Blameless.     But,  in  fact,  he  is 
a  blameless  man." 

"Emphatically,"  assented  Fortescue;  there  was,  how 
ever,  so  strong  an  expression  of  irony  in  his  curving  upper 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  337 

lip  that  perhaps  he  himself  became  conscious  of  this  lapse 
of  facial  control,  for  he  drew  down  the  long  ends  of  hifc, 
auburn  mustache  as  he  continued  with  his  gracious  air. 
"  Let  me  remind  you  that  you  have  not  yet  told  me  the 
Btory." 

"Aha!  the  frying-pan  is  pretty  interesting,  eh?  —  you 
would  like  to  hear  a  little  more  of  the  sizzle  and  sputter  ? 
Well,  sir,  — well,  —  let  me  see."  Colonel  Percy  hesitated, 
looking  meditatively  upward,  his  sheaves  of  papers  in 
either  hand,  and  slightly  balancing  himself  alternately  on 
the  heels  and  toes  of  his  boots,  which  creaked  pleasantly 
with  the  motion.  "  They  met  in  the  office  of  some  hotel 
in  Graftenburg,  —  the  city,  you  know.  Travis  made  an 
effort  to  strike  Brennett  in  the  face,  without  a  moment's 
warning.  In  the  face,  sir,  in  the  face.  Brennett  caught 
his  arm,  tried  to  quiet  him,  demanded  an  explanation. 
Travis  stated  that  he  wished  to  strike  him  for  the  purpose 
of  forcing  a  challenge,  when  he  would  take  the  utmost 
pleasure  in  shooting  Mr.  Brennett." 

This  suggestion  seemed  to  please  Fortescue.  He 
laughed  out  buoyantly,  gayly,  irrepressibly,  boyishly. 
Then  he  leaned  forward,  half  supporting  himself  on  his 
cue,  so  eager  a  listener  that  Colonel  Percy  felt  all  the 
stimulus  of  oratory  and  an  audience. 

"Well,  sir, — well,  the  altercation  came  about  from  this 
cause :  —  Travis  accused  Brennett  of  having,  with  inter 
ested  motives,  set  his  creditors  on  him,  —  the  usurers,  you 
know.  Usurious  money-lenders.  It  seems  that  Travis's 
affairs  here  in  Tennessee  were  much  involved,  aside  from 
his  mining  interests  in  the  West,  which  I  understand  were 
hopelessly  embarrassed.  Nevertheless,  Mr.  Brennett 
bought  out  these  interests,  assuming  of  course  their  lia 
bilities,  and  with  the  money  thus  furnished  Travis  was 
enabled  to  make  a  satisfactory  compromise  with  his 


338  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOLGHT. 

creditors  here,  and  retain  a  handsome  surplus.  Generous 
of  Brennett,  eh?  Generous?" 

"  Characteristically  generous,"  Fortescue  agreed. 

"But  Travis,  although  he  was  reconciled  personally, 
and  apologized  for  his  violence,  was  not  satisfied.  He 
declared  openly  that  Brennett  had  '  skinned '  him.  That 
was  the  expression  he  used.  Skinned.  Still  he  sailed  for 
Liverpool,  —  without  his  cuticle,  I  presume,  —  last  Mon 
day." 

He  glanced  at  his  companion,  expectant  of  a  bravo  for 
this  jest,  but  Fortescue's  attention  had  failed  mid-way. 
He  had  fallen  suddenly  into  deep,  absorbed  thought.  He 
understood  all  this  in  a  sense  of  which  Colonel  Percy, 
wise  as  he  was,  did  not  dream.  So  Brennett,  at  some 
comparatively  trifling  outlay,  had  contrived  to  double  his 
stake.  The  future  profits  and  prospects  of  the  mine  were 
secured  for  himself  alone,  in  case  the  compromise  with 
Miss  St.  Pierre  should  be  effected  and  the  debt  cleared 
away  with  the  funds  thus  secured,  for  Fortescue  could 
easily  divine  that  Travis  nad  sold,  too,  all  the  interest  in 
the  Graftenburg  property  which  he  had  bought  of  the 
claimant.  No  doubt,  deceived  as  to  the  probability  of  a 
compromise,  and  heavily  harassed  by  Brennett's  clever 
maneuvres  with  his  creditors,  Travis  was  easily  pacified 
with  a  little  ready  money,  and  content  to  make  off  with 
his  meagre  pickings  in  lieu  of  the  full  feast  he  had  ex 
pected.  Brennett  was  a  wonderful  fellow !  No  hint  of 
all  this  to  his  coadjutor,  no  word,  no  letter.  The  com 
promise  was  imminent,  and  doubtless  Brennett  feared 
that  because  of  this  he  would  be  bled  as  he  was  wont 
to  bleed  others. 

The  darkness  had  come  at  last.  The  mountain  in  the 
distance,  sad  and  sombre  of  aspect,  doubly  bereaved  as 
one  dropped  again  to  earth  from  the  ecstasies  of  a  vision, 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  339 

touched  with  its  jagged  purple  summit  the  last  faint 
greenish  line  of  light  in  the  sky.  The  lamps  were  glim 
mering  in  their  places  against  the  unplastered,  unpainted 
walls,  and  the  soft  yellow  radiance  brought  out  the  rich 
tints  of  the  maple  and  the  cedar  and  the  walnut  and  the 
oak,  which  in  their  rude,  undressed  state  made  this  build 
ing  so  primitive,  so  sylvan,  that  it  seemed  still  nearly 
allied  to  the  trees  of  its  kindred  standing  in  the  forest 
without.  The  pallid  mist  pressed  close  to  the  broad  win 
dows  ;  sometimes  it  shifted  through  in  a  ghostly,  elusive 
fashion. 

As  Fortescue  leaned  against  the  window-frame,  he  was 
laughing  a  little ;  it  was  a  low  laugh  of  elation. 

Colonel  Percy  suddenly  faced  round  upon  him. 

"John  Fortescue,"  he  said  impressively,  "you  lost 
something  on  the  battlefield  of  Chattalla." 

The  man  received  the  words  with  a  palpable  shock.  It 
quivered  through  every  fibre,  and  blanched  his  face,  and 
shook  his  laugh  to  a  husky  mutter.  He  turned  with  a 
stony  stare. 

"  My  life !  "  he  cried  out  shrilly.     "  I  lost  my  life !  " 

A  tiny  package  that  Colonel  Percy  had  drawn  from  his 
vest-pocket  fell  from  his  nerveless  clasp  and  rolled  away 
on  the  floor,  while  he  stood  as  one  petrified. 

The  moon  was  dim  and  the  wind  came  up  the  gorge. 
The  sudden  gust  tore  away  the  fantastic  white  mists  from 
the  window,  and  the  uncertain  light  fell  through  the 
shivering  rifts  and  traced  upon  the  floor  a  dusky  outline 
of  the  serrated  leaves  and  acorns  of  the  chestnut-oaks 
without.  Perhaps  it  was  well  for  John  Fortescue  at  that 
moment  that  the  convulsive  motion  of  the  boughs  dashed 
into  his  face  their  wealth  of  dew,  cold  and  fragrant,  and 
with  all  the  freshness  and  strength  of  the  woods  distilled 
Viito  it.  When  he  drew  out  his  handkerchief  and  brushed 


340  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

it  away,  he  brushed  away  other  drops,  colder  and  clammy, 
which  had  started  from  within,  and  his  long  sigh  of  phy 
sical  relief  was  blended  with  a  groan  as  of  mental  anguish. 

The  commonplace  gesture  restored  Colonel  Percy's  nor 
mal  self-possession.  He  stooped  with  difficulty,  regained 
the  package,  and,  as  his  fingers  curled  around  it,  he  felt 
that  he  had  mastered  the  situation. 

"  The  lady's  letter  to  the  lawyer  suggested  as  much," 
he  said,  with  the  stiff  pomposity  of  a  conscious  apprecia 
tion  of  delicate  matters. 

"The  lady's  letter  to  the  lawyer?"  Fortescue  echoed 
tremulously. 

The  old  man  nodded  gravely.  "  She  spoke  properly — 
the  lady  did  —  quite  properly,  in  fact.  She  said  that  in 
finding  this  trinket  on  the  battle-field  she  was  aware  that 
it  must  be  of  great  worth  to  its  owner  from  association  — • 
its  character  being  that  of  some  loved  one's  gift.  A  gift, 
—  yes.  Therefore  she  was  willing  to  retain  it  no  longer, 
although  she  was  as  yet  unable  to  decide  as  to  the  matters 
of  business  touching  which  your  counsel  had  approached 
her.  She  states,"  he  continued,  drawing  from  an  envelope 
some  flimsy  sheets,  which  fluttered  in  the  breeze,  "  that 
she  intends  to  write  again  soon  to  her  legal  adviser  who, 
for  some  reason,  did  not  reply  to  her  former  communica 
tion,  and  she  hopes  then  to — to  —  ah  yes, — this  is  the 
lady's  letter  to  the  lawyer." 

He  adjusted  his  spectacles  and  strove  to  read.  "Ah 
well,  sir — well  —  your  eyes  are  younger  than  mine — you 
see  she  fails  to  say  anything  whatever  touching  the  intrin 
sic  value  of  this  gift — this  trinket  —  which  she  sends  by 
express  to  you,  in  care  of  your  lawyers,  as  she  is  ignorant 
of  your  address.  It  is  in  a  sealed  packet.  Sealed  —  her 
metically  sealed.  And  your  lawyers  are  cautious  fellows. 
Very  prudent.  They  say  a  *  trinket '  may  be  diamonds 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  341 

and  may  be  oroide.  They  decline  the  responsibility  of 
forwarding  it  by  mail.  There  is  no  express  to  Bandusia. 
^"o  express.  None.  So  they  beg  of  Brennett  to  intro 
duce  them  to  me.  'As  you  are  going,  my  dear  Colonel, 
will  you  be  so  very  good' — And  I  am  always  very  good  — 
So,  you  see,  I  have  the  pleasure — pleasure,  I  am  sure — " 

He  paused  expectant.  But  Fortescue  had  forgotten  the 
elaborate  courtesy  that  so  well  graced  his  splendid  pres 
ence.  He  did  not  even  thank  Colonel  Percy,  who  felt 
that  for  his  friend's  behoof  he  had  done  much  in  waiving 
his  dignity  and  fetching  parcels  like  a  common  carrier. 
As  Fortescue  hastily  tore  the  papers  enveloping  the  pack 
age,  his  breath  was  quick,  his  hand  unsteady,  and  when 
the  locket,  that  the  girl  had  found  in  the  empty  grave  on 
the  battle-field,  lay  exposed  to  view,  encrusted  with  clay, 
tarnished,  stained  too  by  some  dark  current,  and  jangling 
from  the  bit  of  watch-chain  cut  smoothly  off  by  the  bullet, 
which  had  gone  close  to  the  heart  of  the  man  who  had 
worn  it  there,  he  winced  with  a  shocked  recognition  so 
unmistakable,  so  simple  in  its  expression  that  it  touched 
Colonel  Percy  into  momentary  forgetfulness  of  his  own 
importance. 

This  was  what  he  had  lost,  and,  so  strangely,  he  called 
it  his  life!  Once  more  in  dwelling  upon  it  the  old  man 
was  bewildered,  mystified.  But  after  all,  he  thought, 
with  a  not  unkindly  accession  of  sentiment,  are  not  the 
feelings  we  cherish  for  others,  for  even  the  inanimate 
things  they  have  hallowed,  the  most  vital  principle  of  life, 
the  essence  of  existence  —  worthier  of  the  name  than  the 
involuntary  functions  of  the  lungs  or  the  merely  animal 
mechanism  of  the  heart  ? 

He  was  satisfied  with  his  own  explanation.  He  could 
not  understand,  and  he  did  not  stay  to  ponder  on,  the 
change  that  usurped  this  look  when  the  spring  of  the  lid 


842  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

gave  way  suddenly  in  Fortescue's  hand  —  as  it  had  given 
way  in  Antoinette's  hand  when  she  stood  by  that  yawning 
empty  grave  in  the  haunted  thicket. 

Fortescue  glanced  hastily  at  the  hair  beneath  the  shati 
tered  crystal;  then  he  held  up  the  burnished  lid  to  the 
light,  and  read  the  words  engraved  within,  — 

JOHN  DOANE  FORTESCUK 

from 
"ADELAIDE." 

The  intent  curiosity  in  his  gesture  and  eyes  immolated 
every  other  suggestion  of  his  face  and  figure.  After  a 
moment  it  was  supplemented  by  surprise,  by  a  vague 
doubt,  even  by  a  grave  and  gathering  fear. 

But  the  old  man  was  turning  away.  Fortescue,  ob 
serving  the  motion,  silently  offered  his  hand,  which  was 
silently  accepted.  Then,  thrusting  his  hat  upon  his  head, 
he  went  out  from  the  flickering  flare  of  the  lamps  into  the 
dark  encompassing  wilderness. 

The  wind  was  laid.  The  silvery  impalpable  mists  con 
tended  with  the  silvery  impalpable  moonbeams.  To 
gether  in  a  splendid  sheen  they  hung  about  the  little 
observatory  that  quivered  over  the  dark  chasms  below. 
It  quaked  even  more  beneath  Fortescue's  weight  as  he 
strode  within  it  and  threw  himself,  panting  and  exhausted, 
on  one  of  the  benches. 

"And  who  the  devil  was  'Adelaide'?"  he  muttered. 

Then  he  fell  silent  again,  and  for  a  long  time  he  did  not 
move. 

He  might  have  heard,  yet  he  did  not  hear,  the  music  in 
the  ball-room  that  told  of  the  tide  of  enjoyment,  rising 
gradually  from  sober  lancers  to  waltz,  to  the  culminating 
gayety  of  the  wild  Virginia  reel,  then  ebbing  away  at 
last  in  the  sentimental  measures  of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home." 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  343 

He  might  have  seen,  yet  he  did  not  see,  the  orange-tinted 
points  of  light  as  they  disappeared  one  by  one  from  the 
rows  of  windows  till  the  wilderness  knew  no  gleam  but 
that  of  the  pallid  moon  which  had  waxed  and  waned  here 
when  the  savage  fastnesses  first  rose  from  the  sea. 

More  than  once  he  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  west, 
where  the  sombre  summit  of  the  distant  mountain,  rising 
above  the  illusory  vapors,  was  sharply  outlined  against  the 
midnight  sky.  Beyond  that  mountain  lay  the  nearest 
railroad. 

The  moon  went  down  behind  it.  The  mists  closed 
more  densely  about  him.  The  night  grew  chill,  and  be 
cause  of  this,  perhaps,  when  he  chanced  to  slip  his  hand 
in  his  pocket  and  it  suddenly  touched  the  locket,  which 
he  had  thrust  away  there,  he  shivered. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A  FERVID  Fourth-of-July  sun  was  blazing  in  the 
sky,  and  Chattalla  responded,  for  the  first  time 
gince  the  war,  with  a  celebration  of  the  day.  That 
favorite  rural  diversion,  a  barbecue,  had  been  projected, 
and  certain  optimistic  souls,  spending  the  day  thus  in  the 
forest  beside  a  flowing  rivulet,  drinking  of  its  crystal 
clear  water,  flavored  with  mint  and  dashed  with  "  Rob 
ertson  County,"  grew  patriotic  enough  by  degrees  to 
declare  that  it  was  altogether  like  the  good  old  times,  and 
"damn  the  bloody  chasm."  The  disaffected  absentees 
who  remained  in  the  town  were  of  opinion  that  it  was  a 
"  mighty  pore  little  Fourth,"  for  Independence  Day  was 
here  represented  only  by  a  banner  on  the  court-house, 
hanging  motionless  in  the  sultry  air,  and  all  the  "  under 
foot  trash"  of  the  village,  white  and  black,  rioting  in 
fire-crackers  and  small  explosions  of  gunpowder. 

The  ringleader  of  this  motley  juvenile  assemblage  was 
Pickie  Tait.  How  he  came  by  so  large  a  quantity  of 
powder  was  then,  and  afterward  remained,  a  mystery. 
When,  through  its  agency,  disaster  was  developed,  there 
was  some  speculation  on  the  subject.  Very  possibly  he 
stole  the  money  to  buy  it  from  the  drawer  in  which  hia 
father  kept  the  change  taken  in  at  the  toll-gate;  or  he 
might  have  stolen  the  powder  itself  from  the  store  where 
he  had  "  done  yerrands  "  for  a  week,  and  in  that  time  had 
contrived  to  perpetrate  more  mischief  than  could  be  rec- 
344 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

tified  in  six.  He  never  divulged  the  source  of  his  secret 
supplies,  and  his  silence  baffled  conjecture.  As  the 
morning  waned  he  went  home  to  dinner,  and  the  town 
heard  no  more  from  him  till  late  in  the  day. 

At  the  barracks  the  patriotism  was  of  a  somewhat 
more  glittering  and  imposing  quality,  and  there  was  mar 
tial  music  and  a  dress  parade.  It  was  a  great  relief  to 
Estwicke  when  it  was  all  over,  for  every  distraction 
grated  on  his  preoccupied  thoughts.  He  mounted  his 
horse  and  galloped  aimlessly  away  in  the  lingering  sun 
set,  glad  of  the  solitude  and  the  woodland  quiet,  and 
finding  in  the  swift  motion  some  expression  for  his  impa 
tient  spirit. 

He  had  determined  to  make  General  Vayne's  position 
as  difficult  as  possible,  and  continued  to  visit  the  family 
as  heretofore,  divining  that  a  man  who  held  hospitality 
as  a  sacred  obligation  would  flinch  at  the  idea  of  forbid 
ding  him  the  house,  and  resolved  that,  unless  this  extreme 
measure  were  resorted  to,  he  would  see  Marcia  as  often 
as  he  might.  Now  and  then  he  had  a  twinge  of  self- 
reproach  for  thus  making  use  of  this  fantastic  view  of  the 
duties  of  a  house-owner  to  persuade  his  host's  daughter 
to  marry  him  without  her  father's  consent.  But  what 
could  he  do  ?  Must  he  tamely  give  up  the  woman  he 
loved,  and  who  loved  him,  because,  forsooth,  her  father 
was  vaguely  supposed  to  prefer  another  man  ?  He  swore 
that  he  would  not,  and  he  put  his  sensitive  conscience 
down. 

He  carried  his  fierce  moods  there.  Sometimes  he  bit 
terly  upbraided  Marcia  with  her  broken  promise.  Some 
times  it  was  almost  a  pleasure  tc  him  to  know  that,  if  he 
suffered,  she  too  suffered.  And  then  would  come  a  great 
revulsion  of  feeling,  and  he  would  beg  her  with  passion 
ate  tenderness  to  care  for  him  no  more,  and  protest  that 


346  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

he  was  not  worth  one  of  her  tears,  and  declare  that, 
if  she  said  the  word,  he  would  go  away  —  he  would  go 
away  and  blow  his  brains  out,  and  trouble  her  never 
again. 

He  had  been  more  peremptory  when  he  had  last  seen 
her.  He  had  insisted  that  he  must  come  to  terms  with 
this  suspense ;  he  could  better  endure  despair.  She  must 
make  her  decision  at  once  and  forever.  If  she  definitely 
gave  him  up,  he  would  know  how  he  stood ;  he  would  try 
to  reconcile  himself  as  best  he  might  to  the  worthless 
conditions  of  his  life.  He  might  at  least  seek  to  make  it 
of  some  value  to  others.  He  could  go  and  fight  the 
battles  of  his  country  with  the  Indians ;  he  was  still  first- 
rate  food  for  powder. 

He  had  placed  great  hopes  on  this  effort  to  coerce  her 
from  that  neutral  ground  which  she  had  striven  to  hold. 
But  she  had  only  cried  and  besought  him  not  to  be  un 
happy.  And  Lo  had  parted  from  her  in  anger. 

To-day  the  norse  had  taken  of  his  own  accord  the 
familiar,  oft-travelled  road,  and  checked  the  sweeping 
gallop  only  at  her  father's  gate.  Estwicke,  roused  from 
his  absorption,  realized  where  he  was  with  momentary 
surprise.  He  had  not  intended  to  come,  but  now  that  he 
was  here,  he  hesitated.  Then  he  suddenly  turned  the 
horse  aside,  and  went  on  slowly  down  the  road  along  the 
river  bank. 

The  green  expanse  of  the  battle-field  lay  before  him, 
stretching  to  the  horizon,  and  set,  a  gigantic,  enamelled 
circle,  in  a  circumference  of  gold  and  crimson  clouds,  — 
for  the  east  was  flushed  with  western  reflections.  The 
cows  were  coming  home  through  the  haunted  thickets ; 
the  faint  clangor  of  their  bells  reached  him  on  the  per 
fumed  stillness.  And  in  the  midst  of  the  shining  river 
rose  the  massive  piers  of  the  old  bridge,  burned  so  long 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  347 

Rgo,  leaving  these  great,  useless,  detached  columns  as  still 
another  reminder  of  the  days  of  conflict. 

As  he  glanced  toward  them  Estwicke  abruptly  checked 
his  pace.  On  the  summit  of  the  central  pier  was  a  small 
figure  pottering  about  with  an  uncanny  show  of  industry. 
A  dug-out  was  tied  to  a  bush  that  grew  in  a  niche  near 
the  base ;  this  showed  how  the  boy  had  gone,  and  how  he 
proposed  to  return.  But  what  could  he  be  doing  ? 

"Now,  that's  odd,"  murmured  Estwicke  speculatively. 
14 1  have  seen  that  boy  there  every  day  for  a  week." 

A  man  was  lying  on  the  river  bank  with  a  crazy  violin 
beside  him,  across  which  he  now  and  then  aimlessly  drew 
a  shuddering  bow.  Estwicke  thought  him  a  mowing 
idiot  until  he  spoke.  He  was  beginning  to  hold  a  long- 
range  colloquy  with  the  pigmy  on  the  pier. 

"  Hello,  Pickie ! "  he  shouted  in  a  convulsively  chatter 
ing  fashion.  "  What  air  ye  up  to  ?  " 

Pickie  Tait  turned  his  preternaturally  solemn  face  to 
ward  his  interlocutor. 

"  I  'm  up  ter  —  here  !  "  he  replied. 

Graffy  changed  the  form  of  address. 

"What  be  ye  a-doin'  of?" 

"  It 's  me  that 's  killin'  this  here  cat,  —  ye  onderstand  ?  " 
said  Quick  Pickie  significantly. 

"  Ef  ye  war  ter  fall  off  'n  that  pier  ye  'd  git  yer  head 
bruk,"  Graffy  admonished  him. 

"  'Tend  ter  yer  own  head  —  ye  may  find  a  use  fur  it 
some  day,"  retorted  Pickie. 

The  sound  of  the  horse's  hoofs  as  Estwicke  approached 
diverted  the  man's  attention.  He  turned,  leaning  upon 
Ms  elbow,  to  see  who  might  be  passing,  and  the  casual 
curiosity  expressed  in  his  glance  intensified  to  a  deep  con 
centrated  interest. 

It  was  a  somewhat  brilliant  apparition  thus  springing 


348  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

up  in  the  lonely  country  road.  The  young  officer  waa 
gallantly  mounted,  and  his  blue  uniform  took  the  light 
like  velvet.  His  bearing,  surcharged  with  spirit  and  pride, 
and  a  certain  challenging  boldness  in  his  eyes,  suggested 
the  phrase,  "  every  inch  a  soldier." 

There  was  a  melancholy  envy  in  the  gaze  that  intently 
followed  him  till  the  jagged  bluffs  of  the  river  bank  inter 
posed,  and  he  disappeared.  Then  Graffy  sighed  —  not 
because  of  the  contrast  with  the  mettlesome  full-pulsed 
soldier,  but  the  band  at  the  barracks  was  the  best  in  the 
service,  and  there  rode  a  man  who  heard  it  every  day. 
He  took  up  his  old  violin  and  began  to  draw  gently  forth 
the  vaguest  echoes  of  crashing  melodies,  —  souvenirs  of 
his  pilgrimages  thither,  where  he  had  earned  notoriety 
among  the  troops  as  the  "  damn  fool  who  would  tramp 
fourteen  miles  just  to  hear  the  band  play  a  march."  He 
was  instantly  aware  when  the  regular  dash  of  a  paddle, 
growing  momently  more  distinct,  began  to  beat  an  accom 
paniment  to  his  rhythmic  recollections  as  they  quivered 
along  the  string.  But  he  was  entranced  with  his  own 
music,  and  gave  no  heed  till  his  name  was  twice  called  in 
a  nasal  snuffling  whine  that  was  intended  to  be  propitia 
tory. 

The  ragamuffin  had  come  down  from  his  airy  perch, 
crossed  the  river  in  his  dug-out,  and  run  it  upon  the 
gravelly  bank.  Then  he  stood  up  in  it,  the  paddle  in  his 
hand,  and  looked  at  the  man  from  beneath  his  shapeless 
hat-brim  with  a  blandishing  expression  in  singular  con 
trast  with  the  cool  impudence  his  dirty  face  had  worn  ten 
minutes  ago.  His  tatters  hung  picturesquely  about  his 
skinny  little  limbs,  and  as  he  talked  he  placed  me  grimy, 
cut,  and  scarred  bare  foot  upon  the  other,  and  thus 
clubbed  he  teetered  forward  and  backward,  as  if  thi» 
gesture  were  one  of  the  accepted  graces  of  cajolory. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  349 

"  I  kem  over  hyar,"  lie  remarked  affably,  although  some 
what  indistinctly,  for  he  investigated,  even  as  he  spoke, 
the  corners  of  his  wide  mouth  and  a  row  of  jagged,  squir 
rel  teeth,  with  his  large,  deprecatory,  red  tongue,  "  I  kem 
over  nyar  ter  —  ax  ye  —  ef  ye  plissir  —  do  me  a  —  a 
favior!" 

"  I  dunno  ez  I  hev  enny  call  ter  do  ye  no  f  aviors  —  sech 
a  sassy  critter  ez  ye  be,"  said  the  musician,  bending  his 
head  low  to  a  series  of  deft  touches. 

Pickie  looked  up  the  river,  then  down  the  river,  then 
high  into  the  air,  where  he  followed,  as  it  were,  a  jay's 
flight  with  the  widening  motions  of  his  mouth.  Then  he 
teetered  forward,  and  with  his  former  beguiling  demon 
strations  he  glanced  up  once  more  at  the  man. 

"  I  hev  got  some  fi'-crackers  thar  on  the  pier  what  I  'm 
a-aimin'  ter  set  off  fur  the  Forf  o'  July,  an' — an' — anj 
some  gunpowder."  Graffy  lifted  his  head  to  look  at  the 
boy,  who  suddenly  became  embarrassed.  He  succeeded 
in  clubbing  his  feet  together  more  tightly,  and  thus  in 
spired,  he  speciously  explained.  "A  leetle  gun-powder 
wropped  up  in  a  piece  o'  newspaper.  An'  I  'm  a-f eard  ter 
leave  'em  thar  whilst  I  skedadles  home  fur  some  candle 
wick  fur  a  fuse,  'kase  them  Peters  boys  will  raid  on  'em, 
an'  set  'em  off  tharselfs  fur  the  Forf  o'  July.  An'  I  hev 
got  the  fi'-crackers  all  stuck  round  in  the  rocks,  an'  I  don't 
want  ter  —  ter  —  unfix  'em,  an'  tote  'em  off  with  me.  So 
I  'lowed  ez  mebbe  ye  'd  git  inter  the  dug-out,  an'  scoot 
over  thar,  an'  sot  on  the  pier  whilst  I  'm  gone.  Them  sly, 
sneaky  Peters  boys  mought  kem  up  on  t'  other  side,  an' 
ye  could  n't  see  'em  from  hyar." 

He  stepped  nimbly  out  of  the  dug-out,  and  waited  for 
the  man  to  signify  his  assent,  but  Graffy  still  delicately 
and  deftly  touched  the  instrument,  and  Pickie  at  last  was 
fain  to  start  off  at  a  shambling  gait,  looking  over  his 


350  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

shoulder  now  and  then  to  make  sure  that  Graffy  would 
relent  toward  him  as  of  old.  Presently  the  rocks  inter 
vened,  but  when  the  river  next  came  into  view  he  saw  the 
dug-out  in  mid-stream  and  nearing  the  pier. 

When  Graffy  had  climbed  it,  which  was  no  difficult 
matter,  for  some  of  the  stones  had  fallen  away,  leaving 
crevices  and  jagged  edges,  he  was  surprised  to  see  on  the 
summit  deep  rifts  into  the  interior. 

"  This  hyar  old  pier  ain't  haffen  ez  solid  ez  ye  might 
think  ter  look  at  it.  More'n  likely  cannon-balls  or 
su'thin'  must  hev  hit  it  an'  jarred  it  powerful  in  the  old 
war  times." 

He  looked  down  at  the  puerile  preparations  for  noise  — 
the  fire-crackers  set  around  in  chinks  in  the  mortar,  a  tin 
canister,  flaring  and  empty,  and  a  little  roll  of  newspaper 
which  he  supposed  contained  the  powder. 

Then  he  seated  himself  and  gazed  silently  upon  the  land- 
scape. 

It  was  all  very  still.  Far  away  for  a  moment  he  heard 
the  metallic  jangle  of  trace-chains  as  some  laborer  jogged 
homeward  on  his  plough-horse  through  the  peaceful  battle 
field.  A  pair  of  mocking-birds  fluttered  back  to  their  nest 
in  a  niche  in  the  old  pier,  the  male  circling  about  the  head 
of  the  motionless  figure  on  the  summit,  and  striking  boldly 
at  it.  Then  arose  the  shrill,  vibrating  clamor  of  the  nest 
lings,  and  presently  a  line  of  light  down  the  river  marked 
the  swift  flight  of  the  white  wing-feathers  of  the  little 
freeholder,  still  on  provident  thoughts  intent.  Graffy 
peered  over  to  see  the  mother-bird  hovering  about  her 
brood.  "  Ye  air  mighty  nigh  neighbors  ter  Pickie,  I  'm 
afeard,"  he  said,  with  melancholy  forecast.  Then  once 
more  there  was  no  sound  —  and  no  motion  save  the  silent 
shifting  of  he  crimson  and  purple  clouds  and  of  their 
gorgeous  reflections  in  the  deep  water  below. 


\VHEBE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  351 

The  subject  never  far  from  his  thoughts  had  returned 
now.  In  these  days,  with  his  untutored  intellect,  his  nar 
row  experience,  his  poignant  conscience,  the  man  who  had 
been  accused  and  acquitted,  sought  to  sift  the  evidence  and 
weigh  the  argument.  He  was  wont  to  lie  in  wait  for  the 
witnesses  who  had  testified  in  his  trial,  forcing  from  them 
the  story  they  had  already  told  under  oath,  and  waiving 
their  half-angry,  half-startled  remonstrance  with  the  breath 
less  protest,  "  I  hev  f urgot  —  I  hev  f urgot  —  'T  war  all  so 
suddint  —  an'  so  much  come  arterward."  In  like  manner 
he  once  stopped  the  judge,  presenting  a  clumsy  disguise 
of  the  circumstances,  and  begging  an  opinion  on  a  "  p'int 
o'  law."  When  the  judge  instantly  stripped  them  of  their 
fictitious  integuments,  detecting  his  purpose,  and  admon 
ishing  him  to  rest  satisfied  of  the  justice  of  his  acquittal, 
he  burst  forth  suddenly,  "Your  little  court  and  the  jury's 
say-so  don't  seem  ter  hender  me  none  now."  He  smote 
his  breast.  "  I  hev  jes'  come  ter  jedgmint !  " 

Perhaps  it  was  well  that  his  ragged  following  of  street 
urchins  and  shiftless  loafers  would  not  let  him  and  his 
crazy  old  fiddle  be,  and  that  it  was  exacted  of  him  as  an 
imperative  public  duty  to  play  at  all  the  rustic  merry 
makings.  Thus  intervals,  such  as  this  when  he  sat  alone 
and  idle  on  the  old  pier,  were  rare.  Now,  in  his  ignorant 
fashion,  he  was  reviewing  the  prosecuting  officer's  speech, 
weighing  the  fierce  phrases  as  he  muttered  them.  The 
cogent  arguments  of  a  man  trained  to  debate  had  given 
voice  to  his  dumb  conscience.  The  trite  truculence  had 
for  him  all  the  actuality  of  doom.  Once  he  rose  to  his 
feet,  and  with  a  violent  gesture  unconsciously  imitated 
the  muscular  oratory  of  the  Criminal  Court  as  he 
Diouthed  the  extravagant  denunciations  which  had  been 
forgotten  long  ago  by  the  mild  man  who  had  first  uttered 
them. 


352  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGKT. 

The  muffled  sound  of  hoofs  pacing  slowly  on  the  grassy 
margin  of  the  road  restored  Graffy  to  a  sudden  realization 
of  the  present.  Captain  Estwicke  had  wheeled  his  horse, 
and  was  riding  back  along  the  river  bank.  Under  his  in 
tent,  astonished  scrutiny  Graffy  was  painfully  deprecatory ; 
he  mechanically  laid  hold  on  his  violin.  As  he  began  to 
draw  forth  the  strains  of  a  melodious  country-side  song, 
he  heard  the  plash  of  oars  keeping  time  to  the  music. 
Presently  the  shrill  voices  of  children  broke  on  the  air, 
singing,— 

"  When  I  lived  down  in  Tennessee, 

TJ-li-ah!  U-li-ee/ 
Beneath  the  wild  banana  tree, 
\J-li-ah!  U-li-ee  /" 

There  were  five  or  six  urchins,  black,  white,  and  yellow, 
in  the  approaching  skiff,  all  in  imminent  danger  of  a 
watery  grave  under  Pickie  Tait's  guidance.  But  the  tipsy 
craft  reeled  safely  to  the  bank,  and  landed  all  but  Quick 
Pickie,  who  then  rowed  across  to  the  pier.  He  climbed 
it  like  a  squirrel,  and  as  he  scuffled  up  on  the  summit  he 
looked  at  Graffy  with  a  triumphant  grin  on  his  broad, 
dirty  face.  It  suddenly  turned  white  beneath  its  grime. 
Graffy  had  filled  his  pipe,  and  was  kindling  it  with  a  match 
which  he  flung  aside  still  blazing.  Its  pale  flicker  disap 
peared  as  it  dropped  into  a  deep  rift  in  the  masonry,  and 
a  wild,  incoherent  protest  from  the  boy  rang  out  across 
the  water. 

Estwicke  heard  it.  His  eyes,  following  the  sound,  turned 
absently  upon  the  great  obeliscal  pier,  outlined  in  sombre 
tints  against  the  gold  and  purple  splendors  still  flaunting 
through  the  western  sky.  All  at  once  there  sprang  into 
their  midst  an  ethereal,  corollated,  crimson  presence  like 
some  great  evanescent  flower  of  flame.  Shooting  through 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  353 

it,  high  into  the  air,  were  strange  black  projectiles:  A 
sulphurous  cloud  of  smoke  surged  over  the  placid 
waters,  and  far  along  the  peaceful  battle-field  rang  a 
mighty  sound  as  if  the  very  foundations  of  the  earth 
were  rent  asunder. 

And  in  an  instant  the  flower  of  flame  was  gone  as  sud 
denly  as  it  had  bloomed.  The  smoke  and  the  wind,  in  an 
airy  embrace,  swept  together  down  the  river.  Here  and 
there  on  the  face  of  the  current  an  ever-widening  circle 
of  golden  light  described  its  elastic  periphery  above  the 
heavy  masses  of  masonry  that  had  fallen  into  the  shining 
depths. 

And  with  its  jagged  edges  and  maimed  proportions, 
grotesquely  defined  against  the  calm  sky,  was  the 
great  pier,  the  right  side  torn  away,  leaving  the  other 
of  a  taller  aspect.  On  its  summit  lay  a  writhing  little 
figure. 

The  momentary  silence  that  followed  the  report  was 
broken  with  a  shrill,  quavering,  wail  of  pain,  terrible  to 
hear. 

The  half  dozen  urchins  on  the  bank  were  looking  with 
frightened,  deprecatory  eyes  at  Estwicke  as  he  flung  him 
self  from  his  horse. 

"'T  war  n't  us  that  done  it,"  they  cried  in  chorus. 
"Twar  Pickie  Tait.  That's  him  a-hollerin'  up  there 
now.  He  had  a  fuse  what  he  war  goin'  ter  fix  ter  light, 
an'  he  laid  off  ter  git  away  quicker  'n  he  done.  But 
Graffy  Beale  drapped  a  match  thar.  '  Twar  n't  us  !  " 

Two  or  three  ploughmen  returning  from  work  came 
clattering  down  on  their  horses  to  join  the  little  group  at 
the  water's  edge. 

"  Graffy  an'  Quick  Pickie  ?  "  said  one. 

"Well ;  they've  blown  themselves  into  Kingdom-Come 
this  time,  I  reckon." 


354  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS    FOUGHT. 

ci  We  must  get  them  away  at  once,"  exclaimed  Esfrvvieke, 
hastily  tearing  off  his  coat.  "  That  pier  is  badly  shaken. 
It  may  come  down  and  crush  them." 

"Hold  on  a  minit,  Cap'n,"  said  one  of  the  men. 
"Then  I'll  go  along  o'  ye  —  though  it's  skeery  under 
them  shattered  rocks,  I  tell  ye.  Still,  if  they  hain't  got 
no  more  powder  'mongst  'em,  I'm  willin'  ter  resk  thar 
fallin'  down  on  me." 

"Don't  try  it  jes'  now,  Cap'n,"  said  another  burly  fel 
low.  "  I  '11  bet  that  leetle  scamp  hev  got  that  thar  pier  ez 
full  o'  powder  ez  an  aig  o'  meat.  Hold  on  a  minit  an' 
I'll  go  too  when  I'm  sati'fied  thar's  nothin'  thar  likely 
ter  explode.  Any  way  ter  die  but  that." 

The  horror  of  being  blown  into  the  air,  dismembered 
and  torn,  was  upon  Estwicke  with  a  terrible  realization. 
He  hesitated;  but  once  more  the  child's  woeful  shriek, 
witli  all  its  cadenced  anguish,  rang  out.  And  he  flung 
himself  into  the  water.  He  swam  rapidly  to  the  base  of 
the  pier,  although  the  time  seemed  long  to  those  who 
stood  in  suspense,  watching  him  through  the  blue  twilight 
which  was  softly  slipping  down  upon  the  earth  from  the 
blue  sky.  He  deftly  climbed  the  jagged  column  and,  as  he 
neared  the  still  figure  of  the  man,  he  put  out  his  hand  and 
touched  it.  Then  he  spoke  to  the  boy.  From  the  bank 
they  could  not  hear  the  words,  but  the  sound  of  his 
voice  came  over  the  water.  There  were  gentle  sugges 
tions  in  the  tones,  and  after  that  the  woeful  shrieks  were 
stilled.  Even  the  distance  did  not  disguise  the  careful 
tenderness  with  which  he  took  the  writhing,  quivering 
creature  in  his  arms.  And  suddenly,  once  more  a-bloom 
in  the  blue  twilight  was  that  evanescent  flower  of  flame. 
From  among  its  fiery  petals  the  black  projectiles  were 
flying  upward  —  fallen  instantly.  And  the  red  flower  was 
withered.  When  the  smoke  cleared  away  the  pier  was  a 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  355 

shapeless  pile  of  stone  hardly  rising  above  the  surface  of 
the  river,  and  the  two  men  and  the  boy  were  gone. 

It  seemed  a  miracle  to  those  who  dragged  them  out  of 
the  water  that  there  should  be  a  spark  of  life  retained  in 
Pickie  Tait's  mangled  little  body.  And  even  that  pulpy 
mass  of  agonies  which  they  knew  as  Graffy  Beale  was  yet 
all  a-quiver.  They  could  not  judge  whether  Estwicke's 
injuries  were  less  serious.  There  were  evidences  of  broken 
bones,  he  was  insensible,  and  he  bore  some  deep  gashes 
and  ghastly  bruises  that  were  unpleasant  to  look  at.  They 
carried  him  to  the  nearest  house,  which  was  the  little  log 
cabin  by  Fort  Despair,  and,  when  the  physicians  arrived, 
popular  awe  was  increased  by  the  professional  utterance. 
After  an  examination  they  said,  in  consultation,  that  his 
left  clavicle  was  fractured,  and  the  joint  of  the  scapula 
dislocated,  and  to  the  staring  simple  folks  it  seemed  that 
no  gentleman  who  had  such  things  inside  of  him  could  be 
expected  to  survive.  One  of  his  ribs  was  broken  and  his 
left  arm  shattered  in  two  places. 

"Pretty  bad  fracture,  —  that  arm,  —  I  reckon,"  sug 
gested  the  local  physician. 

"Ah — I  guess  so  —  I  guess  so,"  assented  the  post- 
surgeon,  who  had  been  summoned  by  telegram.  "It's — • 
ah — um — humerus  " —  with  a  meditative  smile  —  "  hume- 
rus  —  don't  you  know." 

A  great  country  lout  who  was  assisting  in  the  quality  of 
curious  spectator,  stepped  suddenly  out  of  the  room  with 
a  surly,  lowering  brow. 

"  I  'd  like  ter  beat  that  derned  Yank  inter  a  jelly,"  he 
declared  to  a  crony  outside.  "  Mighty  funny  ter  him,  I 
reckon.  '•Humorous'1 — hey!"  with  a  sardonic  sneer 
"  He  would  n't  think  it  was  '  humorous '  Ions:  if  T  hed  a 

O 

crack  at  him." 
For  this  episode  had  roused  an  intense  local  sympathy 


356  WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

for  Captain  Estwicke,  and  the  feeling  widened  and  deep 
ened  when  all  the  circumstances  were  duly  set  forth  in 
the  Marston  "Daily  Chronicle."  Not  every  day  does  a 
man  of  "quality"  risk  his  life  to  succor  humble  folks, 
and  the  report  or,  who  felt  himself  destined  for  better 
things  than  writing  up  dog-fights  and  ward  politicians, 
made  the  most  of  the  opportunity.  It  afforded  as  broad 
a  scope  as  an  obituary.  In  fact,  it  was  quite  as  satisfac 
tory  to  the  reporter  as  if  Captain  Estwicke  had  really 
died.  It  enabled  him  to  dwell  upon  the  generosities  of 
character  intimated  as  well  as  that  passion  of  courage 
illustrated.  It  admitted  of  biographical  detail  which  the 
enterprising  representative  of  the  paper  gleaned  in  abun 
dance  at  the  barracks  from  Estwicke's  brother  officers,  who 
were  peculiarly  eager,  anxious,  and  enthusiastic.  If  their 
comrade  had  bravely  encountered  death  and  danger  and 
paid  the  forfeit  of  serious  wounds  upon  some  stricken 
field,  they  would  have  held  it  an  obvious  duty  and  ac 
corded  varying  degrees  of  soldierly  commendation.  But 
to  have  disastrous  dealings  with  gunpowder  out  of  the 
regular  line  of  business  seemed  to  these  men  of  the  sword 
abnormally  daring  and  intrinsically  heroic. 

The  reporter  found  much  geniality  housed  in  the  un 
substantial  white  buildings  with  their  flimsy  galleries  that 
shook  beneath  his  tread.  A  potent  nicotian  fragrance 
permeated  the  air,  as  if  it  were  geographically  appurte 
nant  to  the  spot  —  like  the  resinous  odor  of  piney  woods 
or  the  briny  flavor  of  a  sea-breeze.  A  veteran  of  the  late 
war  told  some  stirring  stories  with  effect,  annotated  by 
the  measured  tread  of  the  sentry  without.  A  young 
lieutenant  gave  items  of  Estwicke's  experience  as  an 
"Indian  Fighter;"  and  while  the  reporter  took  notes, 
he  was  ever  and  anon  exhorted  to  take  also  what  was 
modestly  designated  as  "something."  And  somehow 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  357 

the  mellow  generosities  of  this  same  "  something,"  and 
the  manly  good-fellowship  of  his  entertainers,  and  that 
fine  thrill  which  the  contemplation  of  a  deed  of  daring, 
blended  with  kindness,  excites  about  the  heart,  were 
subtly  infused  into  his  simple  narrative,  and  surprised 
him  when  he  saw  it  printed  on  the  smoking  sheets  in 
the  morning. 

It  surprised  others.  It  suggested  to  more  than  one 
subscriber  of  the  "  Daily  Chronicle "  that  there  might  be 
some  fine  fellows  among  those  Yankees  at  the  barracks ; 
and  a  wonder  if  it  were-  not  a  trifle  too  unfriendly  and 
inhospitable  to  leave  them  shut  off  there  like  aliens ;  and 
a  resolve  to  go  and  see  Captain  Estwicke,  who  had  been 
already  removed  to  his  quarters,  and  tell  him  what  was 
thought  of  him,  and  virtually,  though  unavowedly,  shake 
hands  across  the  bloody  chasm. 

Now,  this  feat  of  moral  gymnastics  is  remarkably  simple 
when  one  fairly  tries  it,  and  was  successfully  exploited  by 
his  brother  officers  and  ses  amis  les  ennemis  so  long  as 
Estwicke  lay  too  ill  to  take  a  hand  in  it.  But  in  a  short 
time,  when  he  began  to  pull  together  and  this  amicable 
ceremony  was  celebrated  in  his  quarters,  a  chill  suddenly 
fell  upon  it.  He  hardly  knew  how  to  receive  the  unwise, 
ill-chosen  superlatives  of  these  fraternal  strangers  and  his 
hearty,  chorusing  friends.  Among  them  he  was  heavily 
badgered.  lie  had  all  the  shyness  of  intense  self-con 
sciousness.  He  was  wont  to  approach  his  own  identity 
with  misgivings,  and  an  undue  respect.  Had  any  man 
come  to  the  barracks  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  him  he 
would  have  been  bold  enough.  Since  they  had  only 
come  to  sing  his  praises  he  was  all  at  once  timid,  gruff, 
uneasy,  ashamed  of  himself,  and  very  much  ashamed  of 
them. 

The  behests  of  hospitality  held  this  grurn  mood  pain- 


358  WHERE   THE   BATTLE    WAS    FOUGHT. 

fully  mute  so  long  as  the  visitors  were  present.  But  the 
sudden  change  from  whole-souled  cordiality,  which  had 
earlier  characterized  their  welcome,  to  this  congealed 
stiffness  was  very  marked,  and  the  quality  of  his  demeanor 
was  variously  reprehended  as  affectation,  or  "barrack 
manners,"  by  these  ex-soldiers  who  had  seen  only  service 
in  the  field,  and  knew  little  of  the  life  and  manners  of 
barracks. 

But  plain-speaking  is  one  of  the  prerogatives  of  friend 
ship.  "You  mortify  me  with  your  confounded  twaddle," 
Estwicke  was  wont  to  say  fiercely  to  his  Damons  when  the 
wheels  of  the  last  departing  guest  were  heard  rolling 
away  on  the  broad,  gravelled  drive.  "  Yes,  —  I  do  feel 
worse,  —  very  much  worse.  They  all  make  me  worse. 
And  you  make  me  sick !  I  'm  sick  with  shame !  " 

Whereupon  the  Damons  would  roar  with  good-natured 
laughter,  and  demonstrate  jovially  the  feasibility  of  once 
more  taking  "  something." 

It  was  eminently  characteristic  that  by  his  exacting 
reserve  Estwicke  should  repel  much  kindly  feeling,  and 
that  with  this  opportunity  he  should  make  not  one  friend 
in  Marston  for  himself,  but  many  for  other  men. 

Beyond  the  reach  of  his  personal  influence,  however, 
his  action  continued  to  levy  a  heavy  tribute  of  good 
will  and  admiration.  It  seemed  in  Chattalla  an  incredibly 
brave  and  generous  thing  to  do,  —  so  vast  was  the  incon 
gruity  in  the  imperilling  of  a  valuable  life  for  poor  Graffy 
Beale,  that  ill-starred  fleer  of  fate,  and  "  Quick  Pickie," — 
who,  when  he  was  pronounced  out  of  danger,  was  uni 
versally  conceded  to  be  "  a  grand  rascal,  though  I  'm 
sorry  for  the  little  chap." 

And  just  here  was  where  it  appealed  to  General  Vayne. 
The  whole  episode  was  instinct  with  a  fine  humanity. 
It  gave  evidence  of  high  impulses  and  a  latent  nobility 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE    WAS   FOUGHT.  359 

hitherto  undivined  in  Estwicke's  character,  —  hitherto 
doubted. 

And  why  doubted?  In  these  days  it  seemed  to  Gen 
eral  Vayne  that  his  own  conduct  had  been  actuated  by 
some  strange,  unreasoning  malice.  He  could  not  recol 
lect  how  his  deep  prejudice  had  taken  root.  He  could 
not  remember  his  grievance ;  the  blow  that  Estwicke  had 
seemed  to  sordidly  deal  him  when  he  was  already  sore 
smitten  and  pressed  to  the  wall.  Mentally  he  fumbled 
for  it.  It  was  gone. 

His  own  fine  deeds  of  valiance  stretched  out  in  the 
darkness  of  the  Lost  Cause  like  the  brilliant  track  of  a 
falling  star.  He  had  thought  them  then  only  prosaic 
duty;  now  they  had  loosed  all  hold  on  his  memory.  But 
every  enthusiastic  pulse  throbbed  hi  accord  with  this  fine 
deed  that  another  man  had  done. 

So  it  came  about  that  he  listened  with  an  unclouded 
brow  to  something  his  daughter  said  one  day,  —  something 
she  said  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  her  face  suffused  with 
flushes,  a  quiver  in  her  voice. 

"Papa,"  she  cried,  "I  don't  need  this  to  teach  me  how 
good  —  how  good — Captain  Estwicke  is.  It  only  teaches 
me  how  dearly  I  love  him.  And  now  —  now  —  I  shall  never 
care  again  because  you  choose  to  undervalue  him.  And  I 
don't  want  your  forgiveness !  He  is  more  to  me  than  you 
are.  And  some  day  when  he  comes  again  I  shall  tell  him 
that  now  I  —  I  will  marry  him,  —  whenever  he  likes." 

There  was  something  hard  in  this  too  frank  avowal  of 
a  transfer  of  allegiance.  But  father  and  daughter  alike 
were  inexpert  at  half-measures,  and  the  thoroughness  of 
the  new  departure  surprised  neither  of  them. 

"  Why,  my  dear  child,"  exclaimed  the  consistent  man, 
with  a  fine  gesture  of  expostulation,  "I  have  not  the 
slightest  objection,  —  not  the  slightest." 


360  WHEBE  THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

There  was  an  unfilial  flash  in  his  daughter's  eyes  as  she 
looked  at  him.  She  remembered  Estwicke's  passionate 
unhappiness,  and  her  own  conduct  to  him  seemed  very 
harsh.  She  had  thought  obedience  to  her  father  her  first 
and  highest  duty.  So  it  was  valueless,  intrinsically,  and 
wasted  besides.  But  obviously  policy  forbade  her  to  urge 
upon  him  the  grace  of  consistency,  and  she  said  nothing 
more. 

She  had  wanted  to  go  to  see  Estwicke.  But  Mrs. 
Kirby,  with  a  heavy  support  of  proprieties,  took  the  field 
in  force.  "  My  dear,"  remonstrated  the  old  lady  gravely, 
"  you  are  not  really,  formally,  engaged  to  him  now." 

"  Oh,  he  knows  how  it  all  was,"  declared  the  girl  im 
patiently. 

"But  other  people  know  nothing  about  it, — nothing 
whatever.  It  would  be  very  queer  for  you,  and  your 
papa,  and  me  to  go  to  him  together  as  you  suggest ;  very 
queer  indeed,  unless  we  could  give  out  that  you  are 
engaged.  You  ought  to  have  foreseen  this,  my  dear. 
You  broke  it  off ;  yes,  you  gave  him  back  his  ring.  Very 
pretty  ring,  that.  Oh,  yes ;  I  know  what  your  papa  said ; 
he  made  you  do  it.  But,"  —  with  a  funereal  shake  of  the 
head,  — "  never  give  back  a  ring.  So  significant ;  so-o 
conclusive.  Remember  that,  my  dear.  Never  give  back 
a  ring,  —  no!"  Mrs.  Kirby  laid  down  these  valuable 
rules  of  guidance  with  as  much  solemnity  as  if  her  niece 
expected  to  be  engaged  a  score  of  times  yet,  and  be 
tempted  as  often  to  thrust  back  rings  upon  their  donors. 

So  Marcia  wrote  a  little  note  to  Captain  Estwicke,  and 
Mrs.  Kirby  wrote  a  longer  one,  and  only  General  Yayne 
drove  over  to  the  barracks.  There  were  several  other 
gentlemen  present  at  this  interview,  and  the  conversation 
was  chiefly  general  and  impersonal ;  hence  Estwicke  had 
scant  opportunity  to  exhibit  that  morose  disinclination  for 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  361 

laudatory  sympathy  which  had  so  unfavorably  impressed 
former  visitors,  and  General  Vayne  went  away  with  his 
rose-colored  views  of  the  incident  unimpaired. 

As  it  had  occurred  so  near  his  plantation,  he  was  popu 
larly  supposed  to  be  peculiarly  well  posted,  and  more  than 
once  his  account  of  it  was  sought  by  guests  at  his  house. 
It  gained  much  impressiveness  from  the  noble  graces  of 
his  rhetoric  and  the  largess  of  his  generous  admiration. 
It  was  pretty  to  see  Marcia  listen  on  these  occasions,  her 
cheeks  crimson  and  her  crimson  lips  parted,  an  enthusias 
tic  gravity  on  her  face,  and  her  eyes  alight  with  that  won 
derful  radiance  which  can  shine  in  a  mortal's  eyes  but 
once  in  a  lifetime.  Most  of  these  visitors  were  stolid, 
unspeculative  people,  long  past  their  romantic  hey-day. 
With  them  this  voiceless  language  of  love  was  already  a 
dead  language,  and  they  translated  none  of  its  glowing 
characters.  Horace  Percy  was  younger,  and  he  had  his 
own  reasons  for  being  observant.  When  he  saw  that 
look  on  her  face  —  although  it  was  but  a  look  —  his  heart 
sank  like  lead. 

Any  grief  with  him  was  nearly  allied  to  a  puerile  irrita 
tion,  and  he  was  rather  cruel  to  his  horses  as  he  drove 
homeward.  He  said  little  to  Brennett,  he  was  absorbed 
in  canvassing  the  matter  silently,  and  seeking  to  reconcile 
himself  to  giving  up  his  love  with  the  doubt  still  upon  it. 
He  did  love  her,  but  he  loved  himself  more.  He  tenderly 
deprecated  for  himself  the  jeopardy  of  rejection.  Hither 
to  he  had  felt  so  sure  of  her ;  he  would  have  felt  equally 
sure  of  any  woman  whom  he  might  seek  in  marriage.  II 
had  brought  himself  to  regard  the  avowal  of  his  prefer 
ence,  not  as  something  that  might  give  her  to  him,  but  as 
of  great  value  because  it  would  bind  him  to  her.  His  was 
the  important  promise,  and  he  was  chary  of  bestowing  it. 
That  exaltatior.  which  dwarfs  the  opinion  of  others  to  but 


362  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

a  mote  in  the  wind  was  an  exaltation  to  which  Percy 
could  never  attain.  The  calamity  of  losing  her,  he  dreaded 
less  than  that  the  world  should  know  of  his  loss.  It  did 
occur  to  him  for  a  moment  that  she  might  feel  tenderly, 
in  a  manner,  toward  the  love  she  could  not  requite ;  that 
she  might  respect  it  as  a  confidence.  But  no !  his  was  a 
famous  scalp.  She  would  joy  to  wear  it  at  her  belt.  At 
the  least  she  would  tell  all  to  her  aunt  —  that  would  be 
only  natural.  That  Mrs.  Kirby  should  not  tell  it  to  Mrs. 
Ridgeway  would  be  supernatural.  Mrs.  Ridgeway  would 
tell  it  to  the  county.  And  then  it  would  go  !  A  young 
man  of  great  social  prominence  finds  sometimes  in  his 
notoriety  a  painful  difficulty. 

But  even  should  he  draw  off  at  once,  he  was  not  safe 
from  the  gossip.  Percy  ground  his  teeth  when  he  re 
flected  that  if  all  he  suspected  were  true,  and  it  should 
become  known  that  she  had  accepted  Estwicke,  the  sharp- 
witted  Maurice  Brennett  would  understand  his  position, 
having  witnessed  throughout  the  summer  his  persistent 
efforts  to  propitiate  General  Vayne.  Brennett  was  a  man 
who  gave  no  quarter,  and  Percy  had  a  vivid  realization  of 
the  infinite  zest  with  which  the  jeunesse  doree  of  New 
Orleans  would  laugh  at  the  story  of  his  fatuity  in  making 
love  to  the  old  gentleman  while  another  fellow  made  love 
to  the  young  lady. 

And  these  cheap  things  vexed  him.  He  continued 
moody  and  silent  until  they  reached  home,  but  at  dinner 
he  was  vivacious  in  a  desultory  fashion,  had  much  to  say, 
and  seemed  to  find  nothing  amiss  with  his  appetite.  When 
he  and  his  guest  were  lighting  their  cigars  in  the  library, 
he  observed  with  a  laugh:  "Did  you  notice,  Brennett, 
how  much  interest  Miss  Marcia  takes  in  Captain  Estwicke's 
—  a  —  a  —  blow-out  —  as  you  might  call  it  ?  " 

Brennett  looked  up  with  genuine  surprise  expressed  in 


WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  363 

his  f nee.  "  Why,  yes,"  he  admitted,  in  a  tone  that  was 
evidently  meant  to  seem  casual. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Percy,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  dark 
shrubbery  close  by  the  open  window  as  he  lounged  easily 
in  his  chair.  "  I  'd  be  willing  to  bet  you  something  very 
considerable  that  they  are  engaged." 

The  crafty  Brennett  was  embarrassed.  "  Why,  I  don't 
know  about  that,"  he  said,  hesitating. 

After  a  moment  he  put  a  bold  face  on  his  uncertainty. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  thought  you  were  in  love  with 
her." 

Percy  glanced  up  laughing.  "  With  Miss  Marcia  ?  "  he 
asked,  a  note  of  incredulity  in  his  voice.  "  I  never  should 
have  credited  you  with  a  sentimental  imagination,  Bren 
nett.  What  made  you  think  that  ?  " 

Brennett  vindicated  his  logic.  "  Because  you  seemed 
specially  anxious  to  stand  well  with  her  father  and  please 
her,"  he  said  sturdily. 

Percy  made  no  rejoinder  for  a  moment,  while  the  ser 
vant  came  in  and  placed  the  lamps  on  the  table.  Then 
he  laughed  again  —  a  trifle  mysteriously  this  time. 

"  Well," —  he  glanced  over  his  shoulder  about  the  room 
—  "  is  that  old  darkey  out  of  hearing  ?  Well,  as  I  was 
about  to  say,  General  Vayne  is  a  man  of  influence,  and  in 
fact  I  am  a  man  of  some  influence  myself.  Moreover,  I 
am  twenty-four  —  nearly  twenty-five  years  of  age." 

Brennett  stared.  Percy  turned  his  cigar  between  hia 
fingers  and  gazed  gravely  at  it. 

"  You  're  not  a  man  that  blabs,  Brennett,"  he  continued, 
presently.  "  I  may  as  well  say  plainly  that  within  a  year 
I  shall  be  eligible  for  Congress,  and  my  friends  want  me 
to  knock  the  old  fossil,  who  has  been  going  from  this  dis 
trict,  back  into  the  Jurassic  period  where  he  belongs.  I 
don't  know  certainly  whether  I  plinll  consent  to  make  tha 


364  WHEKE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

race,  but  in  view  of  that  possibility,  I  must,  in  the 
meantime,  propitiate  men  of  influence,  and  smile  at  their 
daughters,  and  humbug  their  Mrs.  Kirbys  as  well  as  I 
can." 

He  filliped  off  the  ash,  grown  long  and  white  upon  his 
cigar  as  he  talked,  looked  brightly  up  at  Brennett,  and 
laughed  again.  He  had  told  his  little  story  very  well, 
and  the  wily  Brennett  believed  it  —  perhaps  because  he 
esteemed  any  scheme  of  advancement  a  stronger  motive 
than  love.  Percy  detected  credulity  in  his  face,  and,  hav 
ing  succeeded  so  well,  concluded  to  delay.  If  she  were 
in  love  with  Estwicke  she  would  demonstrate  that  fact  by 
marrying  him.  If  not,  she  would  still  be  here  next  autumn 
on  Percy's  return  from  a  little  tour  of  the  northern  seaside 
resorts  which  he  had  in  contemplation.  When  he  had  de 
termined  upon  this  course  he  waited  only  for  his  friend's 
departure  to  carry  it  into  effect,  and  he  waited  in  secret 
impatience,  as  Brennett  showed  no  sign  of  bringing  his 
visit  to  a  close.  Percy  had  lost  all  interest  in  the  quiet 
rural  existence  that,  but  so  short  a  time  ago,  was  instinct 
with  the  keenest  zest.  It  was  painful  to  him  to  go  to 
General  Yayne's  house  and  meet  Marcia.  But  Brennett 
often  proposed  a  drive  or  ride  tending  thither,  and  he 
must  accompany  his  guest  as  behooves  a  host.  He  bit 
terly  upbraided  his  folly  in  having  hampered  himself  at 
this  crisis  with  the  restrictions  of  hospitality,  for  who 
knew  so  well  as  he  that  a  guest  in  the  country  is  like 
a  soul  or  a  conscience,  impossible  to  be  decently  rid  of 
for  a  moment. 

In  these  visits  Mrs.  Kirby  observed  with  some  sur 
prise  that  Antoinette  sedulously  avoided  Mr.  Brennett, 
and,  although  he  did  not  talk  to  her  with  an  eager 
interest,  as  when  he  had  first  come  among  them,  he 
adroitly  contrived,  continually  but  unobtrusively,  to  throw 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE    WAS   FOUGHT.  365 

himself  in  her  way  as  if  to  keep  her  attention  directed  to 
him  —  to  remind  her  of  him. 

And  Mrs.  Kirby  pitied  the  hopeless  love  of  which  she 
imagined  he  was  the  victim,  and  wondered  helplessly  that 
dear  Antoinette  should  be  so  cold. 

Marcia  noticed  nothing  of  all  this,  for  she  was  ab 
sorbed  in  a  fact  which  she  had  at  first  vaguely  per 
ceived  in  doubting,  chilly  apprehension,  and  realized  at 
last  with  an  amazed  despair.  Captain  Estwicke  intended 
to  come  no  more.  She  had  experienced  a  sharp  surprise 
to  hear  from  others  that  he  was  already  out  again  with 
his  arm  in  a  sling.  Naturally  she  had  expected  to  be  the 
first  to  see  him.  But  she  had  accounted  for  this  as  an 
accident,  and  for  a  week  thereafter  she  herself  gathered 
the  flowers  for  the  vases  in  the  library ;  and  in  the  even 
ings  the  lamps  and  the  fire-flies  and  the  moon  were  early 
alight  in  the  big,  square  windows,  with  their  sheer  snowy 
curtains  and  their  clinging  vines,  where  the  dew  glittered 
on  the  climbing  roses,  and  the  mocking-bird  sang  for  his 
welcome.  But  only  the  lagging  hours  came  in  his  stead 
She  began  to  take  account  of  that  last  interview  when  he 
had  said  his  suspense  should  end.  Did  he,  indeed,  hold  it 
definitive  ?  Had  his  love  worn  out  —  and  now  when  she 
was  ready  to  renounce  for  it  all  the  world  besides?  She 
could  not  have  so  doubted  him,  but  for  the  little  letter  she 
had  written.  If  he  had  felt  thus,  she  argued,  it  must 
have  seemed  an  appeal,  a  recall.  And  he  gave  it  no  heed. 
To  be  sure,  he  had  not  been  able  for  weeks  past  to  hold 
a  pen — but  he  might  have  come,  if  he  liked.  That  letter 
grew  to  be  a  poignant  humiliation.  She  brooded  upon  it 
until  the  words,  simple  and  few,  were  burned  into  her 
brain.  Yet  yhe  told  herself  scornfully  that  it  was  no 
great  matter  —  the  letter  was  doubtless  gone  long  ago  — 
it  had  served,  perhaps,  to  light  his  cigar.  And  then  she 


566  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

remembered  the  fervor  of  faith  and  the  glow  of  delight 
with  which  she  had  written  it,  and  she  felt  that  the 
best  of  her,  the  essence  of  hope  and  youth  and  love 
was  exhaled  with  the  smoke,  and  that  all  her  life 
had  flickered  with  the  paper  and  had  faded  and  fallen 
to  ashes. 

Estwicke  did  not  light  his  cigar  with  it,  but  he  smoked 
many  cigars  over  it,  and  it  furnished  him,  too,  midnight 
vigils  and  bitterness  of  spirit.  This  was  the  first  time  she 
had  ever  written  to  him.  Heretofore  he  had  come  and 
gone  so  often  that  there  had  been  no  need  of  letters.  He 
thought  this  little  note  stiff  and  formal.  He  could  not 
know  how  beaming  a  face  had  bent  over  it.  He  could  not 
conceive  that  what  he  had  done  should  render  him  eligi 
ble  in  General  Yayne's  eyes  and  demolish  those  formidable 
unacknowledged  objections.  He  could  not  imagine  that 
that  long  withheld  consent  had  made  her  all  at  once  shy 
of  him  —  shyer  than  ever,  when  Mrs.  Kirby  sat  by  as  she 
wrote  and  admonished  her  to  remember  that  they  were 
not  engaged  just  now.  Estwicke  moodily  compared  the 
result  with  Mrs.  Kirby's  own  affectionate  effusion,  its 
superlatives  straggling  half  across  the  page.  The  con 
trast  seemed  significant.  It  was  all  over  between  them, 
He  had  told  Marcia  she  must  decide,  and  she  had  decided. 
And  she  wrote  now  only  because  they  had  been  friends, 
and  because  she  must,  since  his  other  friends  wrote  too  — 
sooth  to  say  more  kindly.  He  regarded  General  Yayne's 
visit  as  the  emptiest  formality.  Old  Ridgeway,  the  merest 
acquaintance,  had  accompanied  him,  and  there  were  many 
who  came  more  than  once.  Estwicke's  pride,  too,  waa 
reasserting  itself.  He  declared  that  he  would  humble 
himself  to  General  Yayne  and  his  daughter  no  more 
He  would  go  there  never  again,  though  his  heart  should 
break.  He  crew  taciturn,  and  rebellious,  and  irritable, 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  307 

and  the  post-surgeon  rubbed  his  hands  and  said  that  the 
patient  was  coming  on  finely  and  that  a  strong,  fierce 
temper  was  the  best  indication  of  rapid  convalescence. 

Meantime,  General  Yayne,  all  unaware  of  the  havoc  his 
consistency  had  wrought  in  Marcia's  life  and  the  life  of  a 
brave  man  whom  he  admired,  was  reconciling  himself  with 
a  good  grace  to  that  stern  avenging  dispensation  which 
sends  the  "  youth  of  flaunting  feathers  "  close  upon  the 
heels  of  the  father  of  a  daughter.  That  opprobrious 
epithet  "  home-made  Yankee  "  had  been  stricken  from  his 
vocabulary.  He  had  substituted  "  loyal."  Loyal !  That 
was  a  word  of  noble  significations.  And  he  was  a  man 
peculiarly  susceptible  to  the  gracious  charm  of  fine  words. 

Somehow  the  future  seemed  more  ideally  appropriate 
reconstructed  on  the  basis  of  this  word  "  loyal." 

That  notable  issue  of  the  "  Daily  Chronicle  "  was  stale 
enough,  when  one  day  Tom  Toole  found  his  dinner 
wrapped  in  a  fragment  of  it,  as  he  sat  eating  from  his 
tin  pail  in  the  brief  interval  of  rest  called  "nooning." 
Between  bites  he  read  from  it,  slowly  and  laboriously. 
And  as  he  read,  the  yard  of  the  furniture  factory,  with  its 
piles  of  lumber  and  its  high  palings ;  the  city's  hum ;  the 
strident  voices  of  the  street  vendors ;  the  heavy  whir  of 
the  machinery  that,  even  while  it  slackened  and  until  it 
ceased,  seemed  to  shake  the  massive  building  before  him 
—  all  passed  from  his  consciousness.  Instead,  he  saw  the 
long,  sunlit  stretches  of  the  battle-field,  beautiful  and 
blooming  beneath  a  summer  sky.  He  heard  the  river 
sing,  and  remembered  how  the  piers  that  stood  in  its 
midst  roused  its  voice  to  a  more  passionate  utterance, 
as  if  it  too  would  tell  the  story  of  all  that  had  happened 
here. 

"  An'  hain't  that  thar  old  pier  seen  sights ! "  he  ex 
claimed.  "An'  it's  cur'ous  fur  it  ter  be  this  same  man 


368  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

ter  hev  sech  resky  dealin's  thar  —  this  hyar  Estwicke  what 
looked  so  powerful  like  the  t'other  one  —  ef" — even  in 
the  sunlight  and  in  the  far  away  city  he  glanced  dubiously 
over  his  shoulder  —  "ef  thar  ever  war  enny  other  one." 

He  munched  for  a  time  in  meditative  silence.  Then  he 
straightened  the  paper  on  the  planks  before  him  and  be 
gan  to  spell  out  the  closing  sentence,  sensible  of  a  supple 
mental  curiosity  as  to  the  man  and  boy  whom  Estwicke 
had  sought  to  rescue. 

The  account  of  the  officer's  exploit  had  occupied  a 
column  and  a  half  of  fine  print.  But  only  a  paragraph 
was  needed  to  say  that  the  man,  Graffy  Beale,  a  low 
fellow  of  the  neighborhood,  was  fatally  injured  in  the 
accident,  although  the  boy  had  been  pronounced  out  of 
danger. 

Through  the  surprise  throbbing  in  his  quickening 
blood,  through  the  agitation  that  mustered  great  drops 
upon  his  forehead,  blistering  the  crumpled  bit  of  paper  as 
they  fell,  through  the  incredulity  that  sought  to  possess 
him  because  the  familiar  name  looked  so  unfamiliar  in 
print,  Toole  was  mastered  by  a  tyrannous  recollection  of 
that  morning  when  Graffy  had  sat  on  the  rock  by  the 
dusty  milestone,  and  implored  forgiveness,  and  a  friendly 
word,  and  a  hearty  hand-clasp  before  they  parted. 

And  for  a  friendly  word  he  was  bidden  to  look  to  the 
graves  he  had  filled. 

Was  this  the  last  word  to  be  spoken  between  them? 
Had  he  indeed  gone  hence  forever?  The  ignorant  fellow 
was  battling  with  that  maddening  sense  of  irrevocability 
which  alone  is  potent  to  give  to  mortals  a  realization  of 
how  finite  is  opportunity,  how  infinite  is  eternity. 

"But  Graffy  air  the  frien'liest  pore  critter  in  all  this 
worl' !  "  he  broke  forth  presently.  "  He  ain't  a-goin'  ter 
hold  no  grudge  agin  nobody,  nuther  hyar  nur  hyarafter. 


WHKKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  369 

I  hopes  he  knowed  me  that  day,  better  'n  I  knowed  my- 
se'f.  An'  ef  the  Lord  lets  me  I  '11  tell  him  that,  ef  I  kin 
git  back  thar  in  time." 

Certainly  conscience  had  little  to  do  in  Maurice  Bren- 
nett's  schemes.  And  when  it  became  a  factor,  it  was  the 
conscience  of  another 


CHAPTER 

rpEMPLE  MEREDITH  in  New  York  — like  "our 
-L  army  in  Flanders  "  —  swore  terribly. 

Miss  St.  Pierre's  long-lost  letter  still  lay,  among  the 
invitations  to  parties  and  weddings  and  other  delicate 
and  flimsy  missives,  in  the  darkness  of  his  father's  desk 
in  Marston,  to  which  the  old  gentleman's  mistake  had 
consigned  it. 

As  Meredith  received  from  time  to  time  his  mail, 
which  was  forwarded  to  him,  he  would  eagerly  scan  the 
superscription  of  the  envelopes,  then,  in  deep  disappoint 
ment,  thrust  the  letters  into  his  pocket,  unread  for  hours. 
He  had  his  own  reasons  for  attaching  a  peculiar  signifi 
cance  to  her  long-continued  silence.  The  last  letter  he 
had  written  to  her,  which  had  apparently  failed  to  elicit  a 
reply,  was  one  that  could  in  no  degree  be  considered  in 
the  same  category  with  their  previous  correspondence  as 
counsel  and  client.  To  be  sure,  it  had  some  slight  pre 
liminary  sentences,  relative  to  matters  of  business,  as  a 
pretext,  but  then  it  meandered  off  into  a  strictly  personal 
vein,  and  it  filled  four  large  and  closely-written  pages. 
Not  a  love-letter,  by  any  manner  of  means;  it  merely 
breathed  a  respectful  friendship,  which,  however,  held  a 
subtle  but  unmistakable  suggestion  of  a  latent  faculty  for 
vast  expansion.  Now  this  wily  young  lawyer  had  in 
tended  this  as  a  tentative  proceeding  —  in  his  own  jar 
gon,  as  a  "fishing  bill."  He  had  felt,  for  the  first  time  in 
370 


WHEEfi  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  371 

his  life,  self -distrustful,  and  that  he  needed  encourage 
ment.  Their  intercourse  had  hitherto  been  on  the  basis 
of  counsel  and  client,  —  peculiarly  informal,  profession 
ally  speaking,  peculiarly  formal  in  a  social  point  of  view. 
He  had  been  altogether  unable  to  decide  in  what  esteem 
she  held  him,  apart  from  his  position  as  her  adviser,  apart 
from  that  vast  legal  lore  on  which  she  relied  so  implicitly. 
But  if  she  should  respond  to  his  attempt  to  awaken  a 
personal  interest,  he  would  take  heart  of  grace. 

So  the  fishing  bill  was  carefully  prepared  and  duly 
filed  —  and  it  caught  nothing.  He  had  hardly  realized 
how  fully  he  had  expected  an  answer,  how  strong  were 
his  hopes,  until  days  and  weeks  sped  by  and  brought  him 
only  grievous  disappointment.  There  was  an  extreme 
mortification  in  all  this.  And  thus  it  was  that  Temple 
Meredith,  smarting  with  wounded  pride,  blasphemed,  and 
said  in  his  wrath  that  he  was  the  only  damned  fool  (sic) 
in  America  who  could  contrive  to  get  into  the  position  of 
being  rejected  before  he  had  offered  himself.  She  re 
fused  even  his  friendship ;  no  doubt  she  infinitely  scorned 
those  delicate  intimations  of  a  still  deeper  feeling  which 
the  young  lawyer  had  carefully  and  craftily  incorporated 
into  the  instrument.  He  remembered  them  all.  He  re 
membered  them  with  a  rush  of  blood  to  his  face  and  a 
plunging  heart.  He  remembered  the  foolish  hopefulness 
with  which  he  had  drawn  it  up.  He  had  thought  it  a 
nasterly  performance  at  the  time.  He  had  wished  to 
^void  "  rushing  things  "  and  speaking  prematurely.  And 
now  she  would  not  give  him  an  opportunity  of  speaking 
at  all.  If  he  had  not  put  his  fate  to  the  touch  so  soon  — 
so  fatally  soon ;  if  he  could  only  have  waited  for  a  time ! 
But  no !  and  it  was  that  evil  thing,  a  lawyer's  busy  pen, 
which  had  brought  all  this  woe  upon  him,  and  thrown 
him  out  of  Cupid's  court.  And  so  he  swore  terribly. 


372  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

The  thermometer  in  New  York  was  the  wonder  of  the 
country  during  Temple  Meredith's  sojourn  in  that  city. 

He  grew  callous  as  to  how  long  that  sojourn  should  con 
tinue.  At  one  time  he  contemplated  writing  to  her  to 
explain  that  he  was  prevented  by  business  from  keeping 
his  promise  to  be  in  Chattalla  on  the  28th  of  June.  But 
why  should  he  write  ?  what  did  she  care  how  he  came  or 
went  ?  That  day  was  a  long  day  in  New  York  as  well  as 
in  Tennessee. 

When  he  returned  home  he  received  after  a  short  inter 
val  a  letter  which  had  been  forwarded  to  New  York,  arriv 
ing  there  after  his  departure,  and  following  him  to  Mars- 
ton.  As  he  caught  sight  of  the  delicate  chirography  he 
seized  it  with  eager  hands,  tore  the  envelope  open,  and 
while  he  read,  dismay  overspread  his  face.  The  fair  writer 
curtly  and  coldly  begged  to  call  his  attention  once  more 
to  the  matters  contained  in  her  previous  communication. 

"  There  is  some  terrible  mistake  here,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  A  letter  has  gone  wrong,  and  it  has  played  the  very 
deuce,  I  'm  afraid.  Did  nothing  come  for  me  except  the 
mail  you  forwarded  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  his  father  decisively ;  "  everything  was 
sent  on."  After  a  moment's  reflection  he  repeated,  "Every 
thing  was  sent  on  —  except,  I  believe,  some  wedding-cards 
and  such  like." 

"  Where  are  they  ?  By  some  chance  the  letter  may  be 
among  them." 

When  at  last  the  package  was  drawn  from  the  pigeon 
hole  where  it  had  been  so  methodically  lost,  Temple  Mere 
dith  had  no  time  for  the  somewhat  unfilial  criminations 
that  had  risen  to  his  tongue.  After  anxious  perusal  of  the 
inclosed  letter  from  Fortescue's  lawyers,  he  caught  up  the 
newspaper,  glanced  at  the  time-table  of  the  Marston  and 
Chattalla  road,  hastily  made  his  preparations  for  the  jour- 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  873 

ney,  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  his  card  wa* 
brought  to  Antoinette.  She  had  lapsed  into  despair.  It  had 
seemed  impossible  that  she  could  ever  hear  from  him  again. 
The  slow  torture  of  the  past  few  weeks  had  been  sharp 
ened  with  a  keen  sense  of  perpetuity.  Now  she  felt 
stunned  with  surprised  relief,  and  tried  in  vain  to  brace 
her  nerves  for  what  she  must  say  to  him  and  what  he  would 
say  to  her.  Through  the  open  door  of  the  library  he 
caught  a  glimpse,  as  she  came  across  the  empty  drawing- 
rooms  opposite,  of  her  black-robed  figure;  a  stray  sun 
beam  gilded  her  blonde  hair  ;  her  face  was  flushed,  and  he 
noted  that  expression  of  pathetic  appeal  which  it  had  ac 
quired  in  place  of  the  sweet  immobility  it  was  wont  to 
wear.  Somehow  that  gave  him  a  more  adequate  idea  than 
anything  else  could  have  done  of  all  she  had  suffered ;  it 
roused  within  him  an  unjust  self-reproach.  He  could 
hardly  endure  to  meet  her  as  he  rose  hastily  and  advanced. 
She  suddenly  lost  her  self-control  when  she  had  entered 
the  room.  She  leaned  back  against  the  door  as  if  for  sup 
port.  She  cast  one  glance  upon  him,  and  burst  into  tears. 

Perhaps  it  was  well  for  Temple  Meredith  that  he  was  a 
lawyer,  and  expert  by  habit  in  marshalling  together  effect 
ive  points  and  swiftly  exploiting  an  argument.  So  well 
did  he  plead  his  cause  that  he  had  made  the  whole  posi 
tion  of  affairs,  from  the  loss  of  the  letter  to  the  state  of 
his  feelings,  perfectly  plain  to  her  in  the  few  moments  that 
they  stood  together  by  the  door.  And  all  the  time  he 
held  her  hand  in  his,  and  she  did  not  attempt  to  with 
draw  it. 

"  What  did  you  think  of  me  ?  "  he  exclaimed  at  last,  in 
retrospective  dismay. 

"  I  knew  it  was  some  strange  accident,"  she  faltered ;  "  I 
could  n't  believe  you  had  forgotten  me." 

"  Forgotten  you ! " 


374  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

Then  she  turned  away,  and  once  more  fell  to  sobbing. 
He  looked  at  her  in  great  anxiety.  He  began  to  under 
stand  that  something  was  involved  in  all  this  of  far  deeper 
significance  than  those  merely  monetary  interests.  Some 
thing  had  happened  during  his  absence  to  grieve  her 
greatly. 

He  sat  down  beside  her  and  once  more  took  her  hand. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  said,  gently.  "  Tell  me  what  it  is 
that  troubles  you  ?  " 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  I  don't  wonder  that  you  hesitate  to  trust  me,  after  all 
this,"  he  continued.  "  I  only  wish  I  knew,  so  that  I  might 
say  something  to  comfort  you." 

"  Nothing  can  ever  comfort  me,"  she  declared,  in  a  burst 
of  tears.  "  And  yet  I  know  it  is  false,  whatever  it  may 
be.  It's  not  that  I  believe  it,  but  other  people  may. 
That 's  the  reason  I  can't  tell  you.  But  I  've  intended  to 
tell  you.  I  've  waited  for  you  because  I  can't  trust  any 
one  but  you." 

"  Then  tell  me,"  he  urged. 

She  was  unobservant  of  the  effect  of  her  words  as  she 
sobbed  through  her  pathetic  little  account  of  the  scene 
with  Brennett  on  the  moonlit  portico,  and  explained  the 
nterpretation  she  had  placed  upon  his  mysterious  hints 
and  his  motive  in  hazarding  them.  She  was  hardly  con 
scious  that  Meredith's  hand,  which  still  clasped  hers,  was 
trembling,  and  that  there  was  a  change  in  his  voice  inti 
mating  a  tense  repression  of  feeling.  He  did  not  interrupt 
her.  He  spoke  only  after  she  had  finished  her  story. 

"  Where  did  you  meet  the  man  ?  " 

"  Here.  That 's  the  strangest  of  all.  He  seems  to  be  a 
thorough  gentleman  as  far  as  appearance  and  association  go. 
They  are  all  completely  deceived  as  to  his  real  character." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  " 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS    FOUGHT.  375 

"  At  Mrs.  Percy's.     He  is  making  Ler  son  a  long  visit." 

She  looked  up — an  extreme  surprise  mingled  with  the 
tears  in  her  eyes.  Meredith  in  ominous  silence  had  risen, 
and  was  glancing  hastily  about  for  his  hat.  His  face  was 
stern  and  hard.  She  divined  his  intention  from  its  ex 
pression. 

"  I  thought  I  might  trust  you,"  she  exclaimed.  "  This 
is  the  reason  I  didn't  tell  General  Yayne.  He  would 
have  been  rash.  He  would  have  taken  my  position  into 
consideration  only  as  his  daughter's  guest,  who  had  been 
threatened  and  intimidated  in  his  house.  He  would  have 
felt  that  his  own  dignity  was  involved.  But  you!  I 
thought  you  would  care  only  for  my  interest.  And  now 
for  the  luxury  of  calling  that  man  to  account  you  will 
have  a  great  sensation,  and  it  will  bring  out  the  whole 
story,  —  the  wicked  fabrication  that  will  seem  the  truth, 
—  and  it  will  drag  my  name  into  the  newspapers.  It  will 
all  seem  worse  than  it  is.  You  will  have  the  satisfaction 
of  horsewhipping  or  pistolling  the  man,  because  you  are 
angry,  and  I  shall  have  to  take  the  consequences  and  the 
publicity." 

Meredith  paused.  He  could  not  overlook  these  con 
siderations.  He  felt  the  weight  of  her  argument.  He 
stood,  his  hat  in  his  hand  and  his  intention  vacillating. 

"  You  must  not  see  him  at  all,"  she  persisted.  "  Promise 
me  that  you  will  not.  You  are  atigry  on  my  account. 
You  think  you  are  fighting  my  battles.  But  you  are 
taking  the  course  of  all  others  I  most  deprecate.  Ah,  it 
is  hard,  —  hard  that  there  is  nobody  who  will  think  for 
me,  and  whom  I  can  trust ! " 

He  came  back,  and  again  sat  down  beside  her.  "  Don't 
tell  me  that,"  he  entreated.  "  It  is  the  pride  of  my  life 
that  you  have  said  to-day  you  could  trust  no  one  but  ine. 
I  will  do  whatever  you  wish." 


376  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

"  And  what  I  wish  you  to  do,"  she  exclaimed  in  increas 
ing  agitation,  "is  to  see  Fortescue's  lawyers  and  make 
terms  with  them.  Offer  them  whatever  they  will  take. 
Get  the  compromise  through.  Get  it  through  at  once, 
and  have  it  over." 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  "  Don't  you  think  you 
are  very  precipitate  ?  "  he  said.  u  This  affair  is  a  most 
transparent  device.  The  man  is  merely  trying  to  frighten 
you  into  a  compromise,  so  that  he  can  collect  his  debt  on 
Fortescue." 

"I've  thought  of  that.  But  can  I  risk  it?  Suppose 
we  are  mistaken.  Fortescue  knew  my  people  before  I 
was  born.  My  father,  my  mother,  they  have  been  dead 
for  twenty  years.  I  never  knew  them.  How  could  I 
disprove  any  lie  he  might  tell?  How  do  I  know  what 
innocent  circumstance  he  may  contort  into  such  shape  as 
to  serve  his  wicked  purposes.  It 's  so  vague ;  that  makes1 
it  all  the  more  terrible.  That  lie  must  touch  them  or  it 
would  be  impossible  to  make  it  useful  in  coercing  me  into 
a  compromise.  The  attempt  proves  that.  Do  you  think 
I  can  keep  the  property  at  such  a  price,  —  the  price  of 
their  good  name  ?  You  see  I  have  no  choice." 

"  There  is  no  secret,  —  not  even  a  lie,"  said  Meredith. 
"  That  rascal  threw  out  the  idea  merely  as  a  chance  sug 
gestion.  If  you  would  allow  me  to  go  to  him  I  could 
wring  from  him  a  retraction  of  every  word  he  spoke  to 
you"— 

"I  will  not, — I  will  not,"  she  interrupted.  "I  have 
told  you  how  disastrous  that  would  be  to  me." 

"  I  only  want  to  convince  you  that  the  whole  thing  is 
only  a  most  audacious  attempt  to  extort  money.  I  dare 
say  Fortescue  has  never  heard  of  this  move.  It  is  that 
incomparable  villain's  own  device." 

"  But  do  you  know  it  ?     Shall  I  risk  everything  on  a 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  377 

Burmise?  Will  you  take  the  responsibility  of  advising 
me  to  defy  the  man?  It  was  such  a  bold  thing.  He 
£ould  n't  have  known  that  I  would  n't  ask  questions.  He 
was  ready  to  tell  the  lie,  and  he  was  prepared  to  support 
it." 

"But  a  compromise  would  give  you  no  immunity. 
They  would  presently  renew  their  demands  and  threats 
in  the  hope  of  extorting  more  money  still." 

He  looked  at  her  with  earnest  eyes.  All  the  lawyer 
within  him  revolted  at  the  idea  of  thus  tamely  submitting 
to  blackmail.  It  seemed  hardly  less  wicked  than  weak. 

"Then  they  could  take  the  whole  property,  —  every 
cent." 

"And  still  they  might  tell  it." 

"  Then,  you  know,  I  could  n't  help  it.  It  would  be  like 
a  stroke  of  lightning.  It  would  be  my  hard  fate.  But 
my  duty  would  have  been  done.  I  should  have  stood 
between  the  dead  and  calumny  as  long  as  I  could.  I 
should  not  have  chosen  money  rather  than  their  good 
repute.  I  can't  keep  the  property  now.  I  can't  haggle 
and  barter  over  their  graves.  Oh,  no ;  I  can't  do  that." 

Her  soft  lips  were  quivering ;  her  eyes  had  filled  again. 

"  Oh,  don't  distress  yourself,"  he  cried.  "  Don't  talk 
about  it  any  more." 

"  I  can't  think  of  anything  else,"  she  faltered. 

"  But  don't  cry.  See  here.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all 
that  that  man  said  about  Fortescue's  case.  It  may  be 
useful.  Tell  me  what  he  said." 

It  was  not  difficult  for  Antoinette  to  recall  all  the 
details  of  the  conversation.  She  had  gone  over  it  often 
in  the  deep  stillness  of  the  perfumed  summer  midnight, 
as  she  lay  awake  and  could  not  sleep  because  of  her  un 
quiet  thoughts.  She  became  more  calm  as  she  rehearsed 
it,  arid  he  grew  graver  still.  A  pretty  strong  showing  he 


878  WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

considered  it,  for  he  believed  that  Fortescue's  visit  to  the 
United  States  during  the  suspension  of  the  statute  of 
limitations  would  not  be  held  to  operate  as  a  removal 
of  the  disability.  In  his  opinion  the  statute  began  to  run 
against  Fortescue  only  when  he  landed  in  New  York 
early  in  the  spring  of  '71.  He  resolved  to  observe  special 
caution  in  his  advice  to  Miss  St.  Pierre.  If  he  should 
counsel  her  to  refuse  the  compromise,  it  might  chance 
that  Fortescue  would  be  able  to  sustain  his  claim  to  her 
whole  estate,  and  the  story  of  which  he  seemed  disposed 
to  make  such  unscrupulous  use  might  prove,  when  spread 
abroad,  as  disastrous  as  if  it  were  true.  Thus  she  would 
lose  heavily  both  in  pecuniary  considerations  and  in 
the  more  important  matter  of  feeling.  Meredith  ap 
preciated  his  weighty  responsibility  in  view  of  this  pos 
sibility. 

"  What  is  your  opinion  ?  "  she  asked  at  last. 

He  made  an  effort  to  shake  off  his  anxiety  for  the 
present. 

"  That  it  will  bear  a  good  deal  of  tough  cogitation,"  he 
Baid,  with  his  imperturbable  aspect.  "  Suppose  we  agree 
upon  this :  to  postpone  deciding  upon  the  compromise  for 
a  week.  That  will  give  me  an  opportunity  to  look  into 
the  affair.  I'll  come  again  to  Chattalla  next  Tuesday. 
Then  we  '11  talk  it  all  over  again  and  determine  on  our 
best  course." 

She  assented,  and  for  a  few  moments  sat  gravely  silent, 
Meredith  noted  her  downcast  eyes  and  troubled  face. 
With  an  effort  to  conjure  into  it  something  of  its  wonted 
impassive  brightness,  he  said,  remembering  her  former 
ambition  to  explain  things  "like  a  man," — 

"How  well  you  stated  those  points  just  now  —  posi 
tively  like  a  lawyer." 

She  looked  at  him  and  smiled  faintly. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  379 

"  I  could  n't  have  got  them  more  distinctly  from  some 
1  big  wig '  arguing  in  court." 

She  laughed  at  this  as  at  a  jest.  Still  she  was  visibly 
flattered. 

Her  pride  in  her  capacity  for  business  suggested  to  him 
the  recollection  that  it  was  a  hollow  assumption,  for  she 
was  still  unconscious  that  she  owed  him  any  money  for  his 
professional  services.  He  thought  of  his  father  and  the 
"golden  rule  of  practice  "in  inward  and  unfilial  merri 
ment,  and  he  offered  himself  a  glorious  bet  that  he  was 
the  only  lawyer  in  America  who  had  ever  taken  as  a  re 
tainer  his  client's  heart. 

When  he  was  gone  at  last  it  seemed  to  Antoinette,  with 
her  rigid  sense  of  propriety,  that  it  was  incumbent  upon 
her  to  confide  to  Mrs.  Kirby,  as  her  chaperon  pro  tempore, 
the  circumstance  of  this  very  recent  engagement  to  Tem 
ple  Meredith. 

"  Now  this  is  very  nice  —  very  nice  indeed,"  said  the 
old  lady,  beaming  with  gratification.  "  I  don't  know  Mr. 
Meredith,  but  I  have  no  doubt  he  is  all  a  young  man 
should  be,  for  his  grandmother  was  Leonora  Archer — 
nice  people,  the  Archers!  And  his  mother  was  Louise 
Lapice  —  and  they  are  a  good  family  too  —  and  I  feel 
confident  that  you  will  be  very  happy." 

It  never  occurred  to  Mrs.  Kirby  that  a  nice  grand 
mother  might,  in  the  perverse  course  of  events,  have  a 
grandson  who  was  not  at  all  nice.  The  grandmother  she 
considered  important  in  the  premises,  and  thus  she  deftly 
argued.  One  pang  of  pity  for  Maurice  Brennett's  blighted 
affections  —  he  was  so  talented !  But  then,  she  thought, 
brightening  with  reassurance,  no  doubt  Temple  Meredith 
was  talented  too,  for  was  not  his  grandmother  Leonora 
Archer ! 

And  this  was  Mrs.  Kirby's  moan  for  Maurice  Brennett. 


880  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

She  had  no  intention  of  betraying  Antoinette's  con 
fidence.  She  fancied  that  a  secret  told  to  her  was  as  safe 
as  if  it  were  locked  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth.  She  piqued 
herself  on  her  trustworthiness.  Thus  she  was  prone  to 
error  through  lack  of  precaution,  for  she  set  no  guard  upon 
her  tongue,  believing  that  member  to  be  the  most  discreet 
organ  of  its  kind. 

It  chanced  that  she  spent  the  following  day  with  Mrs. 
Ridgeway ;  the  dust  of  her  departing  wheels  was  hardly 
laid  upon  the  pike  before  her  hostess  was  on  the  way 
to  town  in  that  swift  and  commodious  fashion,  known  as 
"  riding  in  the  barouche."  And  in  three  hours  all  Chat- 
talla  was  aware  that  the  pretty  Miss  St.  Pierre,  who  had 
made  Miss  Vayne  such  a  long  visit,  was  just  engaged  to  a 
stranger  —  a  friend  of  Horace  Percy's  —  whom  she  had 
first  met  at  Mrs.  Percy's  house. 

And,  singularly  enough,  this  disclosure  evoked  a  train 
of  sequences  fraught  with  disproportionate  importance. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

+ 

MAURICE  BRENNETT  confided  little  to  chance. 
He  had  found  it  a  doubtful  auxiliary.  One  lowering 
afternoon,  however,  it  came  to  his  aid  in  an  unexpected 
emergency.  It  had  moved  him  to  decline  an  invitation 
from  Horace  Percy  to  drive  to  Chattalla,  and  an  hour  or 
so  after  his  friend's  departure  it  led  him  into  the  library. 

The  day  was  sultry ;  no  wind  stirred ;  the  woods  were 
still.  A  heavy  cloud  overshadowed  the  landscape  like  an 
impending  curse ;  now  and  then  it  was  cleft  by  a  lurid 
flash  of  lightning,  but  as  yet  there  was  no  thunder.  The 
storm  was  in  abeyance. 

The  grating  of  wheels  on  the  gravelled  drive  struck 
sharply  upon  the  silence.  With  an  idle  man's  languid 
interest  in  small  details,  he  put  aside  the  curtain  and 
looked  out.  His  heart  stood  still. 

It  might  seem  that  there  was  nothing  in  the  sight  which 
met  his  eyes  to  elicit  vivid  emotion  —  only  a  well-dressed 
man,  with  a  handsome  face  and  a  seigniorial  manner, 
alighting  from  a  carriage.  But  if  a  great  painter  had 
staked  his  life,  his  soul  upon  the  grouping  in  his  master 
piece,  and  the  iigures  should  become  animated  with  a  4 
malicious  free-agency,  leaving  their  places  on  the  canvas 
and  involving  all  in  ruin,  his  despair  might  be  commensu 
rate  with  what  Brennett  felt  when  John  Fortescue,  quit 
ting  his  prescribed  sphere,  appeared  suddenly  on  this  new 
scene,  dragging  chaotic  complications  a/ter  him. 

381 


882  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

There  was  hardly  a  moment  for  reflection.  There  was 
hardly  need  for  that  moment.  His  best  course  —  his  only 
course  flashed  through  Brennett's  mind  instantly.  He 
caught  up  his  hat,  walked  hastily  out  into  the  hall,  and 
the  two  men  met  at  the  open  front-door  as  Fortescue  laid 
his  hand  on  the  bell-knob. 

He  drew  back  slightly.  The  gesture,  almost  impercep 
tible  though  it  was,  restored  Brennett's  self-confidence. 
There  was  no  trace  of  discomposure  now  in  his  manner. 

"  You  Ve  come  to  see  me,  I  suppose,"  he  said  coolly. 
"May  I  ask  why?" 

His  agitation  seemed  to  have  subtly  transferred  itself  to 
Fortescue,  whose  face  changed. 

"  Hang  it ! "  he  said  with  husky  uncertainty.  "  Shall  I 
talk  it  out  now  and  here  ?  " 

"  If  you  like,"  Brennett  replied,  laughing  a  little,  and 
eying  him  contemptuously. 

Fortescue  had  known  Brennett  long  and  well.  No  one 
could  know  him  well  enough  to  divine  how  he  quaked 
with  the  prosaic  fear  that  some  servant  might  see  the 
carriage  and  come  to  usher  in  the  guest  —  how  cautiously 
he  was  pushing  his  advantage  —  how  anxious  he  was  lest 
he  push  it  too  far  —  how  he  deprecated  what  he  invited, 
for  a  hasty  word  might  ruin  them  both.  Still  it  was  im 
perative  to  cow  Fortescue  —  to  keep  him  down  was  the 
first  consideration. 

"  Is  n't  there  some  place  about  here  where  we  can  talk 
without  interruption,  Brennett,"  said  Fortescue,  calling 
his  name  for  the  first  time.  "  I  don't  want  to  meet  peo 
ple  —  I  must  see  you  alone.  I  must  talk  affairs  over  with 
you.  I  won't  go  on  with  the  " — 

He  broke  off  suddenly.  "  I  tell  you  now,"  he  resumed, 
with  a  gathering  frown,  "  I  've  come  expressly  to  have  it 
out  with  you." 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE    WAS   FOUGHT.  383 

"  You  can  imagine  what  facilities  there  are  here  for  the 
interview  you  propose,"  said  Brennett,  still  harassing 
him.  "There  is  the  library,  with  the  dinjng-roorn  ad 
joining;  there  are  the  parlors,  opening  into  a  conserva 
tory  ;  there  is  my  room,  connected  with  Percy's  by 
sliding  doors." 

"  Oh,  come  out,  come  out ! "  said  Fortescue  impa 
tiently.  "We  can  find  some  quiet  place  about  the 
grounds,  or  we  can  get  into  the  carriage  and  drive  away 
somewhere." 

Brennett  silently  assented.  As  they  walked  down  the 
steps  he  took  out  his  cigar-case  and  offered  it.  Fortescue 
shook  his  head,  hardly  raising  his  absorbed  eyes  from  the 
ground,  and  mechanically  keeping  by  the  side  of  his 
friend,  who  led  the  way  through  the  shrubbery.  Bren 
nett  was  selecting  a  cigar  for  himself  when  they  reached 
their  objective  point;  they  had  emerged  from  among 
the  evergreens  into  an  open,  grassy  space,  with  only  a 
great  oak-tree  in  the  centre ;  beneath  its  wide-spreading 
branches  was  an  iron  bench.  Here  a  figure  approaching 
in  any  direction  could  be  observed  at  the  distance  of  fifty 
yards,  and  their  voices,  even  if  raised  in  emphasis  or 
anger,  would  be  inaudible  to  any  loiterer  among  the 
shrubbery  beyond. 

Brennett  threw  himself  on  the  bench,  and,  with  his 
cigar  between  his  teeth,  he  glanced  up  at  his  visitor,  who 
paured,  leaning  moodily  against  the  bole  of  the  tree. 

"?.low,  see  here,"  said  Brennett,  in  a  pleasant,  delib 
erate  voice. 

Fortescue  lifted  his  head  with  a  hungry  expectancy  of 
look,  almost  pitiable  in  its  intensity. 

"  Give  me  a  match,  can't  you  ?  "  continued  Brennett. 

A  cruel  disappointment  was  sharply  cut  into  Fortescue's 
face.  There  was  something  positively  simple-hearted  in 


384  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

his  unsuspecting  ignorance  of  the  astute  intention  that 
had  dealt  this  insidious  thrust.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
only  his  eagerness  had  led  him  into  sanguine  anticipation, 
and  in  his  curt  response,  "  Have  n't  one,"  there  was  no 
infusion  of  bitterness. 

"  Ah,  I  believe  I  have  one  myself."  Brennett  produced 
it  and  lighted  his  cigar ;  then,  as  he  began  to  smoke,  he 
carelessly  eyed  his  despondent  companion,  still  leaning 
against  the  tree,  —  more  despondent,  perhaps,  for  that  sud 
den  kindling  of  hope,  as  suddenly  quenched,  —  more  anx 
ious,  more  nervous.  Fortescue  made  an  effort  to  rally. 

"Now,  Brennett,  what  have  you  to  say  to  me?" 

"To  say  to  you?"  echoed  Brennett  in  surprised  ac 
cents.  "  My  dear  fellow,  not  one  word." 

"  Come,  there 's  enough  of  that,"  retorted  Fortescue 
fiercely. 

"  Did  you  journey  all  the  way  from  the  mountains 
merely  to  ask  what  I  have  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  won't  be  badgered  in  this  manner,  Brennett.  You 
had  better  draw  off.  I  came  here  for  money.  You  know 
that." 

"  You  won't  get  it." 

"  Then  I  '11  expose  the  whole  affair." 

"  And  incidentally  give  yourself  up  ?  " 

Fortescue  looked  hard  into  his  coadjutor's  face.  It 
was  grave,  but  the  brilliant  eyes  were  lighted  by  some 
inward,  sardonic  laughter. 

"  And  give  myself  up,"  he  said  slowly,  "  and,  inciden 
tally,  you." 

"You  mistake  your  metal,  my  dear  Fortescue.  You 
have  been  a  soldier,  as  we  all  know,  but  you  are  not  the 
stuff  of  which  martyrs  are  made." 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should  be  a  martyr.  I  don't  see 
why,  in  exposing  you,  I  should  necessarily  give  myself 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  385 

np."  Fortescue  paused,  as  if  in  doubt  whether  he  should 
go  further.  Brennett's  satiric  face  and  gleaming  eyes 
seemed  to  exert  an  unnerving  effect  upon  him. 

"  I  intend  to  cut  the  whole  thing,"  he  cried  suddenly. 
"  I  have  been  shabbily  treated  from  the  first,  because  you 
fancy  that  I  am  completely  at  your  mercy.  I  am  not  in 
your  power.  I  have  the  ability  to  ruin  you  by  a  course 
which  insures  me  immunity.  I  did  not  come  all  the  way 
from  the  mountains  merely  to  ask  what  you  have  to  say, 
but  to  see  Miss  St.  Pierre,  —  unless  you  find  it  prudent  to 
come  to  terms." 

Brennett  pulled  away  comfortably  at  his  cigar.  The 
unconstrained  calmness  of  his  manner  had  not  a  sugges 
tion  of  bravade;  his  attitude  denoted  a  certain  degree  of 
easy  attention ;  his  bright  eyes  were  fixed  in  listless  qui 
etude  upon  the  line  of  shrubbery.  But  was  his  face  paler 
than  its  wont,  or  did  it  catch  the  pallid  reflection  of  a 
lurid  gleam  from  the  heavy  clouds  ? 

"  See  Miss  St.  Pierre,"  he  exclaimed  presently,  looking 
up.  "  Of  course  you  must.  She  is  worth  seeing,  I 
assure  you." 

"Damn  it!"  cried  the  other  furiously,  "you  know 
what  I  mean.  I  shall  see  Miss  St.  Pierre,  and,  by  dis 
closing  the  whole  scheme,  secure  her  promise  not  to  pros 
ecute,  —  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I  went  into  the  affair 
reluctantly.  I  never  half  liked  it,  but  I  was  so  devilish 
hard  up  for  the  money  you  bribed  me  with.  I  never 
knew  how  serious  it  was.  It  seemed  a  sort  of  theatrica 
lark.  I  was  exhilarated  with  the  idea  of  personating  tha 
fellow  and  humbugging  a  town  full  of  people.  I  knew  I 
could  do  it.  But  I  really  did  not  appreciate  what  a 
swindle  it  was,  for  I  was  only  half  posted  about  the  facts 
before  I  had  committed  myself.  You  were  the  originator 
of  the  plot ;  you  alone  will  have  to  answe1'  for  it.  I  shall 


386  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

tell  her  the  whole  story,  and  throw  myself  on  her  clem 
ency." 

"  Her  clemency !  "  Brennett  repeated  the  words  mock 
ingly.  "  The  man  who  trusts  to  her  clemency  will  find 
himself  in  the  county  jail,  convicted  of  a  conspiracy  to 
fraudulently  obtain  property." 

From  this  ignoble  allusion  Fortescue  flinched.  And 
certainly  there  was  a  barbed  malice  in  its  incongruity 
with  all  those  fastidious  intimations  which  hung  about 
his  presence  —  his  attire,  somewhat  too  elegant  and  elabo 
rate,  his  impressive  bearing,  even  his  delicately  white  but 
strong  and  sinewy  hand  clenching  itself  upon  the  kid 
glove  which  he  had  drawn  off.  Hardly  more  incongruous, 
however,  than  the  man  was  with  himself,  with  those  sordid 
appeals  for  money,  with  his  coarse  threats.  He  seemed  so 
nobly  endowed  by  nature.  His  superb  physique  in  itself 
should  have  rendered  mere  existence  pleasure.  His 
strength,  his  stature,  his  animal  spirits  might  have  made 
life  a  long  triumphal  progress  for  some  ambitious  soul, 
niggardly  equipped.  All  the  sharply  chiselled  lines  of 
his  features,  and  those  fine  eyes  that  were  so  vicious 
and  so  handsome,  bespoke  a  rare  intelligence  which 
could  only  be  an  added  reproach  to  him  and  his  fail 
ings.  His  special  talents,  and  his  voice,  with  its  infinite 
susceptibility  of  inflection,  would  have  given  fortune 
and  fame  to  another  man,  and  a  histrionic  artist  to  the 
world.  He  was  an  example  of  perverted  powers.  He 
had  all  —  yet  lacked  all  in  lacking  that  consecrating  ele 
ment,  an  abiding  sense  of  honor. 

Certain  lines  about  his  perfectly  moulded  lips  might 
once  have  suggested  an  ingenuous  sensitiveness  —  now 
they  expressed  an  accomplished  sensuality.  There  was 
a  momentary  lapse,  however,  into  the  old  habit  of  theii 
muscles  as  they  trembled  almost  imperceptibly.  Then 


WHERE  THtt  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT.  387 

they  were  resolutely  stilled,  and  with  the  coarseness  of 
these  days  he  faced  his  coadjutor's  suggestion  and  per 
sisted. 

"  She  will  be  under  a  certain  degree  of  obligation  to  me 
for  exposing  the  conspiracy  and  withdrawing  from  it  be 
fore  her  interests  are  injured.  She  will  have  promised." 

"  This  is  the  nineteenth  century,"  said  Brennett,  "  and 
yet  here  is  a  man  willing  to  stake  his  liberty  on  a  woman's 
promise.  The  world  moves  slowly." 

There  was  a  muttering  of  thunder  on  the  still  air.  A 
vivid  flash  shot  swiftly  through  the  heavens  from  zenith 
to  horizon  and  quivered  in  ghastly  vibrations  over  all  the 
landscape  below.  Fortescue  lifted  his  eyes  toward  the 
black  clouds  as  he  spoke.  "I  left  Bandusia  with  the 
resolve  of  seeing  her  at  once.  Even  after  I  reached  that 
little  town  yesterday  I  had  no  intention  of  ever  appealing 
to  you  again.  This  afternoon  I  started  out  to  that  man's 
place  —  General  Vayne's  place  —  determined  to  have  an 
interview  with  her  and  explain  the  whole  affair." 

He  was  still  looking  at  the  clouds.  He  did  not  note 
the  effect  of  his  words,  or  he  might  have  seen  that 
Maurice  Brennett  winced  at  the  imminence  of  this  dan 
ger  of  which  he  had  had  no  premonition.  His  bright 
eyes  were  distended  and  brighter  still.  He  lounged  upon 
the  iron  bench  in  a  relaxed  attitude ;  one  hand  was  on  his 
hip ;  it  might  have  occurred  to  a  man  more  timid  or  more 
observant  than  his  companion,  that  it  was  in  significant 
proximity  to  his  pistol  pocket.  He  was  an  unscrupulous 
villain  and  he  had  been  threatened  with  discovery  and 
.ruin.  His  quick,  prophetic  mind  had  sketched  the  outline 
of  the  possible  scenes  to  come  —  a  jet  of  red  light  pro 
jected  into  the  somnolent  atmosphere  of  this  gray  after 
noon;  a  sharp  report,  a  result  that  should  be  called  a 
dreadful  accident ;  frantic  regret  for  the  careless  handling 


388  WHERE   THE   BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

of  a  pistol  supposed  to  be  unloaded;  always  the  most 
cordial  relations  existing  between  the  parties.  Thus  the 
curtain  should  fall  upon  the  "  theatrical  lark." 

There  was  no  change  in  his  voice  when  he  spoke.  He 
asked  a  question  as  if  the  answer  could  in  no  degree  con 
cern  him. 

"  And  why  did  n't  you  go  ?  " 

Fortescue  once  more  searchingly  scanned  the  face  be 
fore  him.  There  was  nothing  in  it  to  suggest  how  he  had 
best  modify  the  facts.  He  gave  them  unvarnished.  "  I 
discovered  she  was  not  there.  Before  I  left  the  turnpike 
I  met  a  carriage  with  two  young  ladies  driving  toward 
the  town.  I  questioned  the  tollgate-keeper,  who  said  that 
one  was  General  Vayne's  daughter  and  the  other  Miss  St. 
Pierre.  So  I  postponed  the  project,  turned  back,  and 
concluded  to  try  you  once  more  before  I  throw  up  my 
hand." 

"  Throw  it  up,  my  friend.  You  can  see  her  easily 
enough  in  the  morning." 

"  I  '11  try  it,  at  any  rate,"  said  Fortescue  doggedly,  his 
breath  coming  hard  between  his  clenched  teeth.  "I'm 
likely  to  get  nothing  from  you  —  perhaps  she  will  pay  for 
the  information  I  can  give." 

"  You  don't  know  her !  "  exclaimed  Brennett,  laughing. 
"  If  you  did  I  should  admire  your  enterprise." 

"  I  shall  not  ask  her  for  money,"  cried  Fortescue  im 
petuously,  veering  instantly  from  his  determination.  "  I 
shall  only  tell  her  the  whole  story  and  throw  myself  on 
her  clemency.  My  testimony  against  you  will  give  her  all 
the  revenge  she  wants." 

"My  dear  Fortescue,"  said  Brennett,  still  laughing, 
'  you  don't  know  your  cousin." 

"  She  is  not  my  cousin.  Stop  that  humbug.  Don't  caU 
me  'Fortescue.'" 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  389 

"  Don't  you  call  yourself  '  Fortescue  ? '  Tell  me,  what 
shall  I  call  you?" 

"  What 's  the  use  of  all  that  rot  when  we  are  alone  ?  " 

"Habit,  my  dear  fellow  —  for  the  sake  of  habit.  You 
would  n't  like  it  if  I  should  accidentally  blurt  out  among 
our  acquaintances  in  New  Orleans  that  you  are  my  valued 
friend  Edward  Keevor  —  merely  masquerading  for  min 
gled  considerations  of  pleasure  and  profit  as  John  Fortes- 
cue." 

"  And  you  need  n't  shout  it  now  "  —  with  an  anxious 
glance  toward  the  shrubbery. 

"  Why  not  ?  To-morrow  you  will  fling  yourself  peni 
tent  before  Miss  St.  Pierre,  and  meekly  petition  for  im 
munity  and  mercy.  The  game  is  up." 

The  adventurer  said  nothing.  He  was  thinking  that  if 
it  were  desirable  to  see  Miss  St.  Pierre  he  should  have 
done  so  without  talking  the  matter  over  with  Brennett. 
He  was  conscious  of  being  unduly  swayed  by  his  coad 
jutor's  influence  when  they  were  together,  and  yet  he 
could  not  shake  it  off.  His  project,  which  he  had  believed 
so  safe,  so  easy,  began  to  present  unexpected  difficulties. 
Pitfalls  were  before  him  —  he  must  tread  warily.  There 
was  no  prophesying  how  she  would  receive  his  disclosure. 
The  story  once  told  —  he  was  absolutely  at  her  mercy. 
As  he  reflected  on  his  fast-fading  resolve  it  seemed  the 
maddest  temerity  to  have  contemplated  risking  himself 
upon  the  doubtful  whirn  that  might  possess  a  woman 
whom  he  had  never  seen,  and  of  whom  he  had  heard 
nothing  save  what  would  augur  the  most  disastrous  re- 
"tilts  of  his  confidence. 

He  could  not  understand  Brennett's  indifference.  It 
was  simply  inexplicable  in  a  man  fatally  menaced,  with 
every  consideration  at  stake.  It  never  occurred  to  him— + 
who  could  feign  so  well  —  that  another  might  play  a  part 


390  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

too.  And  he  did  not  think  Brennett  in  any  special  sense 
a  courageous  man  —  he  did  not  credit  him  with  the  nerve 
to  stolidly  face  an  emergency  like  this.  He  believed  him 
self  possessed  of  far  more  force  and  pluck ;  he  had  relied 
on  these  endowments  to  shake  his  adversary's  equilibrium, 
and  now  he  himself  was  wavering.  As  far  as  he  could 
judge  he  had  made  no  impression.  A  new  conviction 
was  sending  deep  roots  into  his  mind  —  his  coadjutor  had 
an  alternative  in  contemplation.  Perhaps  there  had  been 
some  change  in  the  position  of  affairs  of  which  he  had  not 
been  notified.  He  quaked  as  he  thought  of  his  precipi 
tancy,  and  the  dangers  into  which  he  might  have  plunged. 
He  felt  enmeshed  in  hidden  toils  ;  his  manner  was  chang 
ing  from  threatening  sternness  to  despondent  appeal.  He 
stood  for  an  instant  longer  beneath  the  tree,  then  he 
walked  slowly  to  the  iron  bench  and  sat  down  beside  his 
companion. 

"  Brennett,"  he  said,  "  you  have  not  treated  me  fairly 
in  this  matter.  You  have  deceived  me  in  more  ways  than 
one." 

"  If  so,  you  have  your  redress.  I  don't  say  a  word  to 
dissuade  you.  Do  whatever  you  think  your  interest  re 
quires." 

"  You  kept  me  in  ignorance  of  the  extent  of  this  swindle 
until  I  was  fully  committed.  You  knew  I  would  n't  take 
hold  if  I  had  understood.  I  never  before  did  anything 
villanous  —  never  half  so  bad,  I  mean.  Ah,  well  —  when 
a  man  once  starts  on  the  down  grade  of  crime  there 's  not 
much  chance  of  putting  on  the  brakes.  The  gambliiig- 
house  and  the  gates  of  hell  —  they  are  the  termini,  I  sup 
pose." 

"  This  is  edifying,"  said  Brennett,  with  a  curling  lip. 

"  You  are  trying  to  exasperate  me.  You  are  trying  to 
provoke  me  to  an  outbreak.  You  want  me  to  become 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  391 

discouraged  and  to  relinquish  the  whole  matter,  and  go 
quietly  back  to  France.  You  have  succeeded  in  effecting 
a  compromise,  and  now  you  are  trying  to  evade  paying 
me  the  five  thousand  dollars  which  you  promised." 

Brennett  laughed.  "  What  a  fool ! "  he  said  contemp 
tuously.  "  How  could  I  effect  a  compromise  without  John 
Fortescue's  signature  ?  " 

This  was  evidently  a  false  scent. 

"Then  you  have  some  alternative  in  view.  What  la 
the  prospect  for  a  compromise  ?  " 

"  Better  than  ever." 

"  You  have  told  me  that  before." 

"  It  was  true  then  —  it  is  true  now.  The  chances  have 
steadily  improved.  Before  long  they  will  be  merged  in  a 
certainty." 

"I  must  have  money,  Brennett  —  in  the  meantime  I 
must  have  some  money." 

"  You  won't  get  it  from  me." 

"Then  I '11  split." 

"  Split  then  —  and  be  damned  to  you ! " 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  It  is  hard  —  hard  !  You  promised  at  first  that  it 
should  last  for  only  two  or  three  weeks,  and  I  agreed  to 
play  the  part  for  that  length  of  time.  It  has  lasted  four 
months.  It  is  a  terrible  strain." 

"  Nonsense.  I  don't  believe  you.  I  've  seen  you  ape 
first  one  fellow  and  then  another,  and  hardly  make  a  ges- 
,ure  or  speak  a  word  in  your  own  manner  for  days  to 
gether.  It 's  a  natural  gift  with  you.  There 's  no  art  nor 
cultivation  about  it,  and  it  can't  be  painful  to  exercise  it. 
You  are  doing  for  money  what  I  have  seen  you  do  a  thou- 
pand  times  for  pure  tomfoolery.  I  have  filled  my  con 
tract  with  you  to  the  letter.  I  told  you  that  the  turn 
could  not  be  positively  limited.  I  paid  you  five  thousand 


892  WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

dollars  —  to  undertake  a  little  deception,  as  easy  to  you 
as  lying  —  and  I  promised  you  five  thousand  more  con 
tingent  upon  effecting  a  compromise  with  Miss  Antoinette 
St.  Pierre.  You  want  more  money  in  the  interval  — 
which  our  agreement  does  not  call  for.  I  won't  pay  a 
cent." 

"  I  run  a  frightful  risk.  Every  day  that  this  thing  con 
tinues  makes  it  more  imminent.  I  am  always  oppressed 
with  a  sense  of  my  danger." 

"  You  run  a  frightful  risk  when  you  are  drunk." 

"  But  I  have  n't  been  drinking  lately.  I  have  sworn 
to  be  moderate.  I  thought  at  first  that  I  could  carry 
the  affair  off  easily  enough  for  a  short  time,  but  this 
long,  long  imposition  has  broken  me  down.  And  since 
that  locket  —  you  remember  I  wrote  to  you  —  since 
it  has  come  from  the  grave  to  upbraid  me  I  have  been 
fearfully  harassed;  my  nerves  are  disordered;  I  am 
beset  with  an  idea  that  discovery  is  upon  me.  I  am  actu 
ally  becoming  superstitious,"  he  continued,  more  wildly. 
"  Brennett,"  —  he  paused  impressively  as  he  rose  to  his 
feet,  while  the  thunder  crashed  from  the  clouds  and  the 
lightning  rent  the  sky — "lam  almost  afraid  to  put  it 
into  words,  but  I  have  a  curious  sense  of  companionship. 
Often  that  man,  John  Fortescue,  is  with  me." 

Brennett  glanced  up  with  a  satiric  smile. 

"  You  will  not  believe  me,"  the  other  went  on,  in  a 
broken  voice  and  with  a  white,  set  face.  "Why  I 
should  tell  you  I  don't  know  —  I  saw  him  shot  from  his 
horse  on  that  battle-field  —  I  saw  him  hours  afterward 
'.ying  on  the  ground,  dead  —  and  —  by  the  Lord  in  heaven 
—  I  met  him  on  the  streets  of  Marston  yesterday." 

He  struck  the  iron  bench  in  emphasis ;  the  blow  forced 
)ut  the  blood  from  his  hand.  He  did  not  notice  it  in  his 
excitement.  He  held  it  up,  dripping  and  quivering,  as  he 
spoke. 


WHERE  THE   BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  398 

"  Like  he  was  when  I  first  knew  him.  Like  he  was 
twenty  years  ago.  Brennett  —  Brennett,  I  thought  I  had 
lost  my  mind !  I  thought  that  it  was  only  a  diseased  and 
morbid  fancy.  I  purposely  reeled  up  against  it,  like  a 
drunken  man,  to  try  if  the — the  Thing  was  palpable  —  if 
it  could  speak !  " 

His  face  was  illumined  suddenly  with  the  baleful  glitter 
of  the  lightning ;  then  it  sank  as  suddenly  into  the  moody 
shadow  of  the  stormy  clouds.  And  still  he  held  up  his 
hand,  dripping  with  blood,  and  quivering  with  a  pain  of 
which  he  was  unconscious.  Brennett  was  looking  at  him 
with  some  speculation  in  his  cool,  critical  eyes  as  to  how 
he  might  turn  these  fantastic  mental  gyrations  to  his  own 
use.  "  And  it  did  speak  ?  "  he  said. 

"  It  did  speak  —  and  it  spoke  with  his  voice,  but  I  could 
not  catch  the  words.  He  threw  me  oft'  with  a  gesture  as 
characteristic  as  his  tones.  Then  he  walked  on  down  the 
street  with  exactly  the  air  and  manner  which  I  had  been 
imitating  as  I  had  walked  on  up  the  street.  It  seemed  to 
me  so  patent  that  I  stared  about  to  see  if  people  had  no 
ticed  it,  but  no  one  was  looking  at  us." 

After  a  moment  the  impostor  once  more  broke  forth 
wildly, — 

"  When  I  fell  asleep  I  dreamed  of  him ;  I  shall  dream 
of  him  to-night.  Some  day  I  shall  see  him  again.  I  know 
it.  I  feel  it.  I  shall  see  him  again." 

Brennett  laughed  harshly.  "You  are  a  marvellously 
unreasoning  creature.  Does  it  never  occur  to  you  that 
the  man  was  uppermost  in  your  thoughts,  and  this  fact 
invested  some  stranger  with  a  fancied  resemblance.  I  '11 
stake  my  immortal  soul,  too,  that  you  had  been  drinking." 

"  I  expected  you  to  say  that,"  his  friend  declared,  with 
a  heavy  sigh.  "  I  don't  understand  why  I  should  tell  thesu 
things  to  you,  except  perhaps  because  I  can  tell  them  to 


394  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

no  one  else.  I  don't  look  to  you  for  sympathy.  I  am  a 
fool,  God  knows,  but  I  have  never  been  given  over  to  such 
abject  idiocy  as  that." 

Again  he  paused,  white  and  haggard.  He  was  in  a 
strong  tremor.  He  might  have  fallen  but  for  the  tree 
behind  him. 

"  Brennett,"  he  cried  suddenly,  "  I  am  dead !  I  have 
lost  my  identity.  I  am  a  dead  man  !  And  this,"  he  con 
tinued,  striking  his  breast,  "  this  is  John  Fortescue.  1  go 
about  so  lonely  —  so  lonely  among  these  crowds  of  living 
men.  When  my  head  aches,  and  my  heart  is  bursting, 
and  my  conscience  has  fallen  upon  me  with  a  fang,  John 
Fortescue  is  hilarious  and  loud.  He  has  a  handful  of  win 
ning  cards  —  the  bottled  sunshine  of  champagne  has  kin  • 
died  a  riotous  summer  in  his  veins.  His  friends  are  fond 
of  him  for  all  his  faults.  They  call  him  Jack,  and  swear 
he  is  the  best  fellow  in  the  world !  His  father's  old  cronies 
come  to  him  and  beg  him  to  reform.  They  take  him  home 
to  dinner,  and  he  meets  saintly  old  ladies,  who  talk  to  him 
about  his  mother.  And  YJ  I  don't  know  where  .7 am!  1 
look  on  at  all  of  it  from  some  outer  darkness.  My  soul 
has  given  me  the  slip ;  God  has  forgotten  it  —  it  was  so 
little,  you  know,  it  slid  away,  and  was  lost,  just  vaguely 
lost  somewhere.  For  this,  this  is  John  Fortescue.  They 
talk  to  him  about  his  mother.  And  he  listens.  I  don't, 
you  know,  for  I  never  saw  her.  And  I  would  rather  face 
death  than  the  recollection  of  my  own  mother.  But  he, 
he  feels  differently.  It  is  very  natural  that  he  should." 

Once  more  Brennett's  sardonic  laughter  jarred  the 
ah*. 

"  Don't  think  to  work  upon  me,  Ned,  by  your  histrionic 
display.  I  have  already  the  highest  opinion  of  your  abil- 
ty  in  that  line.  I  have  given  you  substantial  proof  how 
i.  value  your  talents.  You  cannot  extort  further  admira- 


WHEKE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  395 

tion,  and,  incidentally,  another  honorarium  by  this  unex 
pected  coup  de  thedtre." 

His  words  were  like  a  douche  of  cold  water  to  the  ad 
venturer.  They  chilled  while  they  stung,  and  yet  they 
brought  up  his  blood  with  a  rush,  and  steadied  his  nerves. 
He  again  walked  to  the  bench  and  seated  himself. 

"  Brennett,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  f riend's 
knee  and  speaking  slowly  as  he  looked  into  those  bright 
eyes,  "you  are  a  man  of  acumen  and  excellent  judgment 
—  singularly  quick  in  the  vivisection  of  character,  and 
adroit  to  a  superhuman  degree  in  exposing  secret  motives. 
And  yet  you  think  it  possible  that  a  man  would  try  to 
profit  by  working  upon  your  feelings ;  that  I  credit  you 
with  a  heart  —  a  heart !  whose  generous  heat  might  mis 
lead  your  cooler  reason.  I  have  long  known  that  you 
have  an  ability  to  scheme  which  you  call  your  mind ;  an 
all-consuming  avarice,  that  you  dignify  by  the  name  of 
ambition.  You  have  a  system  of  veins  and  valves  and 
arteries  through  which  flows  a  sluggish  fluid  that  is  not 
blood,  for  it  was  never  warm  —  it  can  pulsate  to  no  inter 
est  save  your  own.  I  could  only  reach  your  feelings  by 
striking  you.  And  I  have  a  mind  to  strike  you  dead  on 
the  spot." 

"  There  would  be  a  prompt  decadence  of  the  drama  if 
all  mild,  admiring  spectators  were  subjected  to  dangers 
like  this,"  sneered  Brennett.  He  made  no  move  toward 
his  pistol-pocket  now  —  the  threat  was  empty  of  intention. 
He  recognized  the  fact. 

"  I  did  not  hope  that  I  could  by  argument  reach  thai; 
hypothetical  essence,  your  conscience, — by  showing  you 
how  manifestly  unfair  it  is  that  I  should  be  forced  to  con 
tinue  this  personation  through  four  months  instead  of  the 
three  weeks  to  which  I  agreed,  and  without  any  payment 
for  the  extra  time  and  risk.  I  did  not  trouble  you  so  long 


896  WHEKE  THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT. 

as  I  could  live  by  the  tables,  but  at  that  sequestered  place 
in  the  mountains,  where  on  account  only  of  your  insis 
tence  I  remained,  there  is  literally  nothing  going  on,  and  I 
am  sometimes  at  my  wits'  end  for  five  dollars.  But  I  did 
not  intend  to  appeal  to  your  conscience.  If  you  have  a 
conscience  nobody  would  suspect  it.  If  you  have  a  soul 
—  imagination  cannot  conceive  the  idea !  If  you  ever 
had  a  spark  of  honor  or  honesty  it  was  extinguished  long 
before  I  first  knew  you  —  long  before  I  first  fell  under 
your  blighting  influence.  How  it  should  attach  men  to 
virtue  —  the  companions  they  meet  in  vice ! " 

"You're  a  rhetorician,  Ned;  doubtless  able  to  write 
tragedies  as  well  as  play  the  high-minded  though  lugu 
brious  penitent.  Give  over  these  handsomely  rounded 
periods  and  tell  me  what  f ou  did  expect  to  reach  ?  " 

"Your  fears." 

"  I  am  mistaken,  Ned ;  comedy  is  your  forte.  This  is 
funny." 

"  And  so  I  thought  I  would  warn  you  that  I  intend  to 
tell  Miss  St.  Pierre." 

"  You  won't  do  it,"  said  Brennett  coolly.  "  You  have 
everything  to  risk ;  you  have  nothing  to  gain ;  and  you 
will  certainly  lose  the  chance  of  five  thousand  dollars." 

Still  once  more  the  adventurer  scanned  that  impassive 
face.  There  was  no  mistaking  its  expression  —  it  was  an 
absolute  indifference.  He  threw  himself  back  with  a 
hunted  look ;  he  hardly  knew  which  way  to  turn.  It  was 
a  great  relief  to  give  for  a  moment  his  attention  to  a 
trivial  subject. 

u  How  did  I  get  that  cut  ?  "  he  said,  looking  in  surprise 
at  his  hand,  and  sensible  for  the  first  time  of  the  stinging 
bruise. 

"In  your  excitement  you  struck  your  hand  on  that 
iharp  edge,"  said  Brennett.  "  I  tell  you  now  —  for  your 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAfi   FOUGHT,  397 

good,  mind  you  —  such  agitation  is  dangerous.  You 
ought  to  struggle  against  those  fantastic  illusions  about 
Fortescue,  or  you  '11  pass  the  rest  of  your  days  in  a  strait- 
jacket." 

The  other  did  not  reply.  He  was  spent  with  the  inten 
sity  of  his  emotions.  His  spirits  were  at  their  lowest  ebb. 
He  raised  his  heavily-lidded  eyes  and  gazed  despondently 
at  the  encompassing  wall  of  shrubbery.  Suddenly  he  be 
came  aware  that  a  carriage  was  rapidly  passing  behind  it, 
and  he  heard  a  hasty  voice  of  recognition  calling  from  the 
window. 

He  turned  in  languid  inquiry  to  Brennett. 

"  That 's  Percy,"  said  Brennett  in  answer  to  the  look. 
"  He  has  seen  you.  We  shall  have  to  go  to  the  house,  I 
suppose.  If  you  intend  to  continue  with  the  affair,  you 
ought  to  try  to  rally  and  support  the  character." 

"  I  intend  to  go  on  with  it  for  the  present,"  the  impos 
tor  rejoined. 

Certainly  it  was  no  mean  order  of  ability  which  could 
conjure  into  that  jaded,  sordid  face  all  those  strong,  yet 
subtle  suggestions  of  vitality,  and  buoyancy,  and  a  fine 
candor,  and  a  generous  ardor ;  that  could  put  on,  as  a  vest 
ment,  a  demeanor  in  which  high  breeding  and  pride  were 
blended  with  patent  recklessness  and  a  fantastic  bravade 
of  convention.  One  would  have  said  that  it  was  an  in 
imitable  manner  as  he  walked  with  his  friend  toward 
the  house.  He  was  drawing  his  glove  over  his  cut  and 
bruised  hand,  and  Brennett,  watching  him  furtively,  y«pt 
narrowly,  felt  a  great  weight  lifted  in  the  vanishing  doubt 
as  to  how  he  would  meet  Percy. 

He  met  Percy  lightly  enough,  parrying  with  clever  lies 
and  excuses  the  young  man's  invitations  which  were  in 
sistent  almost  to  the  verge  of  rudeness.  For  the  storm 
Vas  breaking  at  last ;  the  peals  of  thunder  and  flashes  of 


898  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

lightning  were  instantaneous  and  nearly  unintermittent ; 
far  away  about  the  horizon  the  sombre  masses  of  clouds 
were  torn  into  fringes  as  the  heavy  rain  began  to  fall. 
With  feigned  regrets  the  visitor  sprang  into  the  carriage, 
and  it  rolled  away  between  the  darkening  earth  and  the 
flaring  §ky. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

rjlHE  storm  was  over  by  the  time  he  reached  Chattalla. 
-L  The  wind  and  the  breaking  clouds  were  rioting 
through  the  deep  blue  sky.  The  moon  had  risen  ;  wher 
ever  its  rays  fell  they  seemed  to  evoke  a  lily  in  the 
picturesque  waste  of  a  garden,  that  lay  at  one  side  of 
the  little  hotel ;  there  were  petunias  hidden  somewhere, 
and  honeysuckle,  their  fragrance  all  freshened  by  the  rain. 
His  sore  heart  was  instinct  with  tender  recollections  as  he 
leaned  out  of  the  bar-room  window,  recognizing  the  fra 
grance  of  old-fashioned  flowers,  the  pride  of  country 
gardens  —  he  had  not  seen  their  like  since  his  early  child 
hood.  It  took  him  back  for  a  moment,  and  in  that 
moment  he  forgot  the  baffling  wonder  and  dismay  that 
had  possessed  him ;  for  since  parting  with  Brennett  he 
had  been  groping  blindly  about  in  a  maze  of  conjecture  for 
those  secret  motives  which  he  suspected.  Now  some  long 
crushed  germ  of  higher  impulses  was  faintly  stirring, 
perhaps  with  reviviscent  possibilities,  as  he  took  his  cigar 
from  his  lips  and  looked  out  into  the  dim  leafy  recesses, 
and  sighed  while  he  looked.  He  knocked  the  feathery 
ash  from  the  weed,  and  in  the  motion  changed  his  position. 
It  brought  the  interior  of  the  bar-room  before  him,  and 
with  the  glare  of  the  lamps  and  the  prosaic  suggestions  of 
the  scene,  returned  his  eager  speculation  as  to  the  innocu 
ous  alternative  which  he  believed  Brennett  held  in  reserve, 
This  roused  his  exhausted  faculties  for  another  spurt. 


400  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

The  house  was  quiet,  but  from  the  purple  gloom  of  th 
street  came  the  insistent  clamor  of  the  village  church  bells, 
inconceivably  discordant  to  ears  accustomed  to  the  more 
melodious  sound  of  the  bells  of  cities.  This  was  not 
Sunday,  but  a  "big  revival"  was  in  progress  —  the  pre 
vailing  sensation  amidst  the  monotony  of  life  in  Chattalla 
—  and  by  reason  of  the  dominant  desire  to  know  who  had 
"got  religion"  it  drew  until  even  the  saloons  were  almost 
deserted.  Now  and  then,  however,  a  languid  drawl  broke 
the  stillness  within  the  bar-room,  and  seemed  the  precon 
certed  signal  for  a  group  of  loungers  to  noisily  shift  their 
chairs,  which  were  already  precariously  tilted  on  the  hind- 
legs,  to  spit  profusely  on  the  bare  floor,  and  to  raise  slow 
meditative  eyes  to  the  speaker's  face.  Their  conversation 
was  of  that  retrospective  character,  peculiarly  rural,  in 
which  facts  perfectly  well-known  to  each  are  severally 
rehearsed  as  if  to  satisfy  some  iterative  mental  craving. 
Often  covert  glances  were  cast  at  one  of  their  number, 
expressive  of  curiosity,  and  an  expectation  of  more  pro 
nounced  symptoms  of  emotion  than  he  exhibited.  His 
grave,  stolid  face  was  half  shaded  by  his  slouched  hat,  his 
long,  tawny  beard  hung  down  upon  his  breast,  his  legs 
were  stretched  out  at  length,  his  hands  were  thrust  deep 
in  the  pockets  of  his  brown  jeans  trousers.  The  talk  was 
not  cheerful,  and  seemed  as  incongruous  as  might  be  with 
the  time  and  place.  It  consisted  chiefly  of  details  of  the 
fearful  "taking  off"  of  an  unfortunate  called  Graffy 
Beale.  These  chanced  to  involve  the  mention  of  General 
Vayne,  whose  name  the  adventurer  caught  as  he  lounged 
:n  the  window. 

"Firing  the  Gen'al's  fields  kep'  Graffy  in  torment," 
said  the  bar -keeper,  turning  a  huge  quid  of  tobacco  in  his 
cheek.  "  An'  yit  't  war  an  accident." 

"Never  rested  till  they  went  an'  fetched  old  Frank  — 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  401 

they  tells  me,"  said  Tom  Toole,  shifting  his  heavy  boots 
one  above  the  other. 

A  third  spat  on  the  floor.  "Jes'  oughter  hev  seen 
Gen'al  Vayne ! " 

"  Ye  war  thar,"  said  Toole  affirmatively. 
'  :*  I  war,"  the  eye-witness  replied. 

Long  pause. 

"  Old  Gen'al  gits  foolisher  every  day  —  talks  like  he 
war  a  millionaire  yit,"  he  presently  resumed  discursively. 
"All  that  thar  good  cotton  burnt  up  fur  nothin',  an'  he  so 
scrimped  fur  money  —  Shucks  !  Mightily  surprised  he 
war  ter  find  out  that  the  fire  started  from  whar  Graffy 
hed  hid  in  the  old  powder-magazine  on  his  plantation  — 
then  sez  he  —  sez  the  old  Gen'al  — '  I  hope  I  may  be  for 
given  ez  freely  ez  I  forgive  you.  My  pore  feller,  I  do  not 
grudge  one  fibre  of  the  cotton.  I  bear  in  mind  your 
grievous  straits.  And,  for  God's  sake,  if  you  had  shelter, 
or  warmth,  or  security  from  me  or  mine,  take  it  as  the 
bounty  of  Providence,  and  be  at  rest ! ' ' 

The  church-bells  jangled  out  of  tune.  The  breath  of 
jasmine  came  in  at  the  window.  A  mocking-bird  was 
singing  in  the  moonlight.  Once  more  the  roughly  shod 
feet  grated  harshly  on  the  floor,  and  the  chairs  were 
noisily  moved. 

"  Shucks !  Mighty  big  sinner  now,  old  Frank  is ! " 
another  submitted  ironically.  "  What  ails  him  ter  git  ter 
goin'  round  hyar  jo  win'  'bout  furgiveness  ?  What 's  he 
ever  done  ter  be  f urgiven  fur  ?  " 

"  He  fought  a  juel  wunst,"  suggested  a  moralist,  dubi 
ously.  "  They  say  nowadays  ez  that  is  a  sin." 

"  I  reckon  even  the  bes'  men  need  grace,"  said  the  bar 
keeper  piously. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  the  adventurer  struck  unex 
pectedly  into  the  conversation,  "  but  you  alluded  just  now 


402  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

to  General  Vayne's  financial  condition.  I  have  some 
curiosity  to  know  how  he  stands  since  the  war." 

This  moment  was  the  crisis  in  Maurice  Brennett's  affairs. 
If  his  coadjutor  should  leave  on  the  next  train  for  East 
Tennessee  his  scheme  was  perfect.  On  this  chance  he 
had  reckoned  when  they  parted.  Only  a  few  more  days 
and  there  would  come  the  full  fruition  of  success  —  it  was 
even  more  imminent  than  he  thought,  —  for  Miss  St. 
Pierre  had  finally  instructed  her  lawyer  to  compromise 
on  any  terms  her  adversary  might  dictate. 

And  all  this  intricate  mechanism,  of  which  free  agents 
were  the  component  parts,  so  delicately  adjusted  that  the 
ruling  characteristic  of  each  acted  and  reacted  on  the 
others  according  to  Brennett's  volition,  all  was  in  an  in 
stant  brought  to  naught  because  his  accomplice's  eyes 
chanced  to  rest  upon  Tom  Toole,  and  the  impulse  of  the 
moment  led  him  to  mingle  in  the  rural  gossip. 

"  How  does  he  stand  ?  how  does  General  Yayne  come 
on  since  the  war  ?  "  he  reiterated. 

Tom  Toole  shook  his  head  with  slow  impressiveness. 
The  gesture  operated  as  a  melancholy  annotation  of  his 
response.  "  Come  on  ?  He  don't  come  on  wuth  a  cent.'* 

"It's  a  pretty  good  country  you  seem  to  have  about 
here.  I  should  think  he  might  have  pulled  together  in  all 
this  time.  He  ought  to  have  more  elasticity." 

" He 's  flat  broke"  said  the  bar-keeper  conclusively. 
"The  value  o'  his  property  hes  gone  down  ter  nothink, 
scarcely,  whilst  his  debts  hev  been  growin'  on  thar  interes'. 
When  the  hammer  comes  down  it  '11  smash  all  in  sight. 
Now,  ez  ter  me,  I  never  hed  nothink  ter  lose.  But  it's 
a  right  stiff  thing  on  the  *  big  rich,'  sech  ez  Gen'al  Yaync 
uster  be." 

"Oh,  I  dare  say  he  will  mend  his  fortunes.  He  is  only 
middle-aged  as  yet.  He  is  not  on  his  last  legs,  you  see, 


WHERE  TELE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT.  408 

There  are  chances  before  him.  He  may  marry  a  rich 
widow.  Let  me  tell  you,  never  moan  for  a  man  who  has 
a  rich  widow  for  a  neighbor !  He  has  a  financial  panacea, 
always  ready  to  be  applied  with  neatness  and  despatch." 

There  was  a  laugh  of  languid  amusement  among  the 
rural  loafers.  Only  Tom  Toole  sat  silent  and  grave. 

The  speaker,  too,  laughed  as  he  shifted  his  cigar  be 
tween  his  teeth.  "  General  Vayne  has  acumen  in  those 
matters,  I  should  judge.  He  has  hedged  —  neatly.  I 
happen  to  know  that  he  has  a  young  lady  staying  in  hia 
house,  visiting  his  daughter.  Is  it  a  coincidence  that  this 
young  lady  is  very  rich,  in  her  own  right  ?  " 

He  had  carried  his  point.  He  had  wrenched  the  subject 
of  conversation  to  Miss  St.  Pierre.  He  wanted  to  know 
what  was  said  and  thought  of  her  in  the  village ;  a  chance 
word  might  give  him  a  clew  —  vaguely  a  clew  —  to  some 
thing  that  would  prove  valuable.  He  had  heard  of  her 
only  through  Brennett.  It  might  be  well  to  glean  a  point 
or  two  from  some  source  more  reliable  and  disinterested. 
It  might  lead  to  a  knowledge  of  that  suspected  alternative 
which  he  believed  rendered  Brennett  indifferent  to  the 
imposture,  and  the  imposture  futile.  He  did  not  know 
what  use  he  could  make  of  the  vague  "  something  "  when 
he  should  hear  it.  He  only  felt  blindfolded,  and  working 
in  the  dark,  and  his  instinct  was  to  lift  the  bandage. 

"  Ye  're  a  stranger  hyar,"  said  Toole,  "  an'  I  reckon 
ye  don't  know  Gen'al  Vayne.  No  man  that  ever  knew 
him  would  believe  he  was  dangling  after  rich  wimmen  fur 
the  sake  o'  thar  money." 

"  Oh  no,  I  don't  know  him.  He  was  only  pointed  out 
to  me  on  the  street." 

"./"know  him  —  bet  on  that!  I  served  in  his  brigade 
four  year.  I've  known  him  on  the  battle-field  an'  in 
camp,  in  forced  marches  an'  routs,  in  victories  an'  defeats 


404  WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS    FOUGHT. 

What  I  don't  know  about  that  man  ain't  wuth  findin' 
oat.  An'  I  say  he  's  a  good  soldier,  an'  a  brave  man  an'  a 
gentleman  —  every  inch! " 

"  That 's  a  true  word,"  said  the  bar-keeper,  suddenly  in 
fected  with  Toole's  enthusiasm. 

"  Fur  a  fack ! "  chorused  the  group,  easily  adapting 
their  plastic  mood  to  the  gravity  with  which  Toole  con 
templated  the  subject. 

"  I  don't  question  it,"  the  adventurer  carelessly  declared. 
"  But  gentlemen  have  married  rich  women.  It  may  be  a 
wicked  thing  to  do.  Still  I  am  no  judge." 

And  he  laughed  again. 

"  Gentlemen  hev  never  married  rich  women  fur  the  sake 
o'  thar  money  —  not  ef  I  onderstan'  the  meanin'  o'  the 
word.  A  gentleman  sech  ez  Gen'al  Vayne  don't  invite  a 
young  lady  ter  visit  his  darter  fur  the  sake  o'  draggin'  in 
her  fortin'.  That 's  what  you  hinted  jes'  now,"  Toole  per 
sisted  seriously.  He  thought  he  owed  much  gratitude  to 
General  Yayne,  who,  despite  his  anxious  financial  straits, 
had  furnished  bail,  had  given  with  an  open  hand  of  his 
scanty  store,  had  restored  his  humble  friend  to  liberty,  had 
trusted  him  when  all  the  world  was  against  him.  But 
hitherto  the  indulgence  of  this  sentiment  had  seemed  a 
farce  to  Toole,  so  heavily  did  remorse  weigh  upon  him  for 
his  share  in  that  folly  which  had  resulted  in  firing  the 
battle-field  and  burning  the  cotton.  He  had  never  been 
able  even  to  contemplate  confessing  how  deeply  he  had 
injured  his  benefactor.  Those  words  of  comfort  and  for 
giveness,  which  had  sent  Graffy  in  peace  to  the  grave, 
were  hardly  less  welcome  to  him.  Now  he  no  longer  felt 
belied  in  any  demonstration  of  respect  and  regard  for 
the  man  who  had  done  so  much  for  him.  He  could 
net  sit  by  and  hear  General  Vayne  disparaged.  He  was 
r«ady  to  make  it  his  own  quarrel.  As  a  sudden  recollee* 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  405 

tion  struck  him  he  was  imbued  with  a  sense  of  triumph, 
and  he  re-commenced  with  the  assurance  of  making  thia 
insidious  detractor  eat  his  own  words. 

"An'  now  I.kem  ter  think  of  it,  mister,  I  kin  prove  ter 
ye  that  ye  air  all  cat-a-wampus  on  that  p'int  —  'kase  this 
young  lady  —  this  Miss  Sampeere,  or  Camphire,  or  what 
ever  her  name  is  —  it 's  reported  about  town  that  she  is 
engaged  ter  be  married  ter  another  man  —  a  stranger 
hyar." 

"  A  stranger  f    What  stranger  ?  " 

Toole  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  He  had  drawn  him 
self  up  to  his  full  height ;  his  teeth  were  clenched  on  his 
cigar ;  his  breath  was  quick ;  upon  his  face  was  the  pale 
anguish  of  suspense. 

"  Why,"  said  Toole,  with  a  reluctance  which  he  hardly 
understood,  "  I  don't  know  his  name.  I  ain't  sure  he 's 
hyar  now,  —  he 's  a  friend  o'  Horace  Percy's,  an'  he  stayed 
a  good  long  spell  down  at  Mrs.  Percy's  house." 

"By  the  Lord!"  exclaimed  the  adventurer  wildly, 
bringing  his  hand  down  ®n  the  counter  with  a  vehemence 
that  sent  a  shiver  through  all  the  glasses,  "  what  a  dupe  I 
have  been !  Engaged  to  him !  There  's  the  secret !  That 
explains  it ! " 

His  pallor  had  deepened  —  his  face  was  ghastly  and 
rigid.  A  terrible  passion  was  blazing  in  his  eyes.  It 
had  set  all  his  pulses  a-quiver,  and  he  shook  visibly.  He 
looked  desperate,  even  dangerous.  For  an  instant  he 
stood  in  doubt,  then  started  toward  the  door.  One  of 
the  amazed,  uncomprehending  loafers  threw  himself  in 
the  way,  striving  to  expostulate.  "  Hold  on ;  give  yer- 
self  a  chance  ter  cool  down,  or  ye  may  do  something 
rash." 

He  silently  flung  off  the  countryman  and  plunged  into 
the  violet  dusk  of  the  street,  which  was  still  a-j angle  with 


406  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

the  discordant  bells,  and  permeated  with  the  fresh  fra 
grance  left  by  the  summer  rain,  and  veined  with  the 
glint  of  the  moonbeams.  His  anger  dominated  over  every 
faculty.  He  was  barely  conscious  of  throwing  himself 
into  a  carriage  and  calling  out  an  order  to  the  driver. 
Then  he  was  shut  in  with  it,  losing  even  the  sense  of 
motion  as  the  vehicle  rolled  on  and  on  through  the  dark 
ness  toward  the  vast,  vague  stretch  of  the  battle-field. 
And  so  Brennett  was  going  to  marry  the  girl,  and  thus 
secure  her  fortune.  All  that  was  necessary  had  been  to 
keep  his  coadjutor  at  a  distance,  counsel  prudence,  and 
excite  fear.  And  this  had  cost  him  not  one  cent;  on 
the  contrary,  he  was  cleverly  beating  his  dupe  out  of  five 
thousand  dollars  —  the  unsuspecting  fool,  whose  futile  and 
dangerous  imposture  had  thus  been  left  day  after  day 
without  a  word  of  warning  at  the  mercy  of  accident. 
This  was  the  favorable  change  for  Brennett  of  which 
there  had  been  no  hint.  This  was  the  innocuous  alter 
native.  Perhaps  the  influence  already  secured  over  the 
girl  was  sufficient  to  make  her  doubt  the  plainest  proofs 
which  could  be  put  into  her  hands  of  the  conspiracy  of 
her  "  lover " —  he  sneered  at  the  very  thought  of  the 
word  —  to  rob  her.  But  it  might  be  that  Brennet*. 
overrated  this  influence.  It  should  be  put  to  the  test. 
He  would  risk  his  liberty  —  if  need  were,  he  would  risk 
his  life  —  to  compass  the  ruin  of  the  man  who  had  deceived 
him.  He  ran  over  once  more  in  his  mind  what  he  would 
say  to  her.  It  was  a  strong  showing  —  stronger  even  than 
he  had  thought.  No  sane  woman  of  reputable  station 
would  marry  a  man  blasted  like  this.  He  could  thwart 
Brennett's  scheme,  and  wreck  his  hopes,  and  stigmatize 
him  forever  in  the  business  world,  even  if,  for  the  sake  of 
what  had  been,  she  should  refuse  to  prosecute. 
But  the  price  of  this :  It  should  cost  as  little  as  might 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS  FOUGHT.  407 

be.  He  would  be  cautious.  He  swore  to  himself  that  he 
would  be  cautious.  He  would,  if  possible,  secure  first  her 
promise  of  immunity;  if  not  — 

He  was  looking  out  at  the  moon-flooded  battle-field  with 
abrupt  realization  of  what  he  saw.  Somehow,  now  that 
he  was  here  again  —  here,  where  the  battle  was  fought 
—  the  localities  seemed  to  have  dwelt  strangely  in  his 
memory.  On  that  elevation  there  had  been  a  battery,  and 
how  the  shells  had  rioted  through  the  heavy  timber  to  the 
west.  He  turned  slightly  —  the  heavy  timber  was  gone. 
Where  were  the  dead  and  dying  men  once  strewn  over  this 
ground !  —  there  seemed  to  him  a  flash  as  of  bayonets 
from  out  a  thicket  as  he  passed.  And  suddenly  —  he 
lifted  his  head  with  an  intent  gesture  and  dilating  eyes  — 
a  mellow,  undulatory  resonance  drifted  tc  him  on  the 
wind  —  clear,  vibrating,  infinitely  stirring.  His  heart 
leaped  to  the  familiar  strain,  and  every  nerve  responded 
with  a  thrill.  For  was  it  not  a  distant  bugle,  sounding 
"  boots  and  saddles."  But,  no,  how  could  that  be  ?  The 
place  —  the  associations  it  revived  —  these  illusions  were 
accounted  for  so  readily.  He  heard,  too,  a  shell  shrieking 
down  the  night.  He  would  have  sworn  it.  But  that 
also  —  that  was  his  sensitive  imagination.  There  stood 
Fort  Despair  —  no  doubt  about  it  —  mounted  with  heavy 
guns  once,  and  fiercely  repelling  the  fiercest  assaults  — 
but  now  assaulted  only  by  the  wind  or  the  rain.  And 
here  was  the  long  slope  where  John  Fortescue  and  a  score 
or  two  more  fell,  while  the  rest  went  on  with  that  wild 
charging  cheer  —  surely  its  echoes  were  in  the  air  yet! 
It  was  some  comfort  to  him  now,  singularly  enough,  that 
he  had  gone  back  afterward,  under  a  hot  cross-fire,  to  tike 
his  friend's  dying  hand.  He  felt  its  convulsive  grip  again. 
He  put  his  own  tremulous  hand  over  his  eyes  for  an  in 
stant.  He  was  so  wrong,  so  weak,  so  wretched. 


408  WHERE   THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

And  here,  rising  starkly  into  the  night,  was  a  great 
gaunt  house,  that  he  remembered  too  —  as  headquarters. 
A  flare  of  lights  came  from  the  open  window,  and  within 
was  Antoinette  St.  Pierre  holding  strange  possibilities  in 
the  lives  of  two  men.  And  here  was  his  resolution  again 
in  full  force. 

Tic  did  not  hesitate.  But  he  walked  slowly  up  the  pave 
ment,  giving  himself  time  to  quiet  his  tumultuous  pulse 
and  gather  his  faculties  to  sustain  the  personation.  He 
would  keep  it  up  at  first  —  it  could  do  no  harm  and  he 
might  regret  a  different  course.  He  noticed  that  a  group 
of  figures  stood  at  the  end  of  the  long  portico  just  with 
out  the  lighted  window.  He  hardly  thought  he  was  ob 
served  as  he  ascended  the  flight  of  steps.  Then  the 
clangor  of  the  bell  resounded  through  the  house. 

It  seemed  to  General  Vayne  and  Mr.  Ridgeway,  seated 
in  the  library,  a  moment  of  no  special  significance  when 
Antoinette  St.  Pierre,  delicately  blonde  and  youthful  in 
her  mourning  dress,  was  rising  from  her  chair  beside  the 
table  with  a  card  in  her  hand.  She  glanced  hastily  at  the 
name  upon  it  and  a  hot  flush  mounted  to  her  brow.  The 
next  instant  ushered  in  a  man  of  notably  fine  presence. 
His  handsome  eyes  swept  the  other  occupants  of  the 
room  with  a  cursory  glance.  Then  he  bowed  to  her 
gravely. 

"  I  have  ventured  to  intrude,"  he  began.  But  there 
was  a  stir  upon  the  portico ;  a  light  shower  was  pattering 
down ;  the  group  without  were  entering  at  the  long  win- 
flows.  As  he  spoke  his  eyes  fell  upon  Captain  Estwicke, 
who  was  holding  back  the  curtain  for  the  ladies  to  pass 
into  the  room  while  he  stood  motionless  outside. 

The  impostor  suddenly  raised  a  tremulous  hand. 

"  Coming  again ! "  he  cried  wildly,  pointing  to  the  face; 
plainly  defined  upon  the  darkness  and  framed  by  the  dra« 


WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  409 

pery  of  the  window.  "  I  knew  you  would  !  I  have  felt 
you  with  me  when  I  could  n't  see  you.  But,  Jack  !  Jack  1 
why  should  you  care  ?  You  know  if  you  were  alive 
you  'd  forgive  it  all  and  pass  it  by.  You  always  loved 
me.  You  always  said  so — 'the  best  friend  a  man  ever 
had.'  You  've  sworn  it !  —  sworn  it  a  thousand  times." 

He  held  his  right  hand  up  as  if  in  memory  of  an 
oath.  He  had  pressed  by  Miss  St.  Pierre,  and  was  advanc 
ing  toward  Estwicke,  who  still  stood  without  the  win 
dow,  the  curtain  in  his  hand,  motionless,  and  with  a 
dismayed  surprise  aghast  upon  his  face.  The  adventurer 
paused. 

"  We  went  through  so  much  together.  You  have  n't 
forgotten  —  surely,  surely,  you  have  n't  forgotten.  Don't 
look  at  me  with  those  accusing  eyes  !  you  '11  break  my  heart. 
You  would  never  have  looked  at  me  like  that  in  the  old 
days.  And  I  tried  you  often,  and  tried  you  hard.  Ah, 
Jack !  you  're  dead  —  that  makes  all  the  difference.  A 
dead  man  forgets  his  friends.  A  dead  man  has  no  friends 
—  that 's  what  you  think.  You  come  back  and  find  a  fel 
low  masquerading  around  the  world  as  John  Fortescue, 
when  John  Fortescue  is  dead,  so  cruelly  dead,  so  long 
ago,  on  this  black  battle-field.  But,  Jack,  if  it  could  have 
hurt  you,  old  man,  I  would  have  lain  down  in  your  place 
and  let  you  take  mine,  rather  than  call  myself  John  For 
tescue." 

Estwicke  made  a  motion  as  if  to  step  into  the  room. 

"  I  'm  not  afraid  of  you !  "  cried  the  impostor,  hold 
ing  out  both  arms.  "Give  me  your  hand.  I  had  its 
last  clasp  in  life.  Tell  me  you  forgive  me!  Say  the 
word !  And  let  it  all  be  as  it  was  in  the  days  when  you 
were  John  Fortescue,  and  Edward  Keevor  was  his  best 
friend." 

He  laid  his  hand  heavily  on  Estwicke's  shoulder,  and 


410  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS  FOUGHT. 

General  Vayne,  impelled  by  a  sense  of  danger,  sprang  to 
the  window,  and  caught  the  stranger's  arm. 

"The  man's  a  maniac!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  does 
all  this  mean  ?  " 

"Why  that,"  faltered  Estwicke,  "that  — John  Fortes, 
eue  —  that  is  my  name." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

TjlSTWICKE  stepped  into  the  room  in  the  midst  of  an 
-L1J  expectant  silence. 

The  touch  of  a  strong,  coercive  hand  upon  the  impos 
tor's  arm  reused  him  to  a  realization  of  the  situation. 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,"  he  gasped  faintly,  "  who  are 
you?" 

"  I,"  said  Estwicke  tremulously,  "  I  am  —  his  son." 

"  His  son  ! "  The  adventurer  echoed  the  words  in  a 
passion  of  despair. 

Only  five  minutes  ago  he  had  been  assuring  his  fears 
of  the  caution  of  his  intention.  And  yet  he  had  wrested 
from  Miss  St.  Pierre  no  promise  of  immunity.  He  had 
pulled  down  no  temple  of  fancied  security  upon  Maurice 
Brennett.  He  had  betrayed  himself,  himself  only,  to  a 
dozen  witnesses,  and  among  them  this  man,  John  Fortes- 
cue's  son,  of  whose  existence  he  had  never  before  heard. 

Instinctively,  perhaps  with  no  idea  of  flight,  he  turned 
toward  the  door.  A  moment  earlier  he  might  have  seen 
more  beyond  it  than  the  great,  dimly-lighted,  bare  hall. 
He  might  have  seen,  lurking  in  the  gloom,  a  hesitating 
shadow,  with  cruelly  brilliant  eyes,  all  their  rapacious  sug 
gestions  sharpening  and  intensifying  as  they  looked  upon 
the  group  within.  But  when  those  words,  "  his  son,"  and 
their  despairing  echo,  struck  Maurice  Brennett's  intent 
ear,  he  slipped  out  softly  into  that  night  of  changeful 
mood.  And  as  he  rode  swiftly  through  the  misty  uncer- 

411 


412  WUEIIE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

tainty  of  the  moonlit  battle-field  he  remembered  the  strong 
premonition  that  had  beset  him  when  first  he  saw  John 
Estwicke's  face,  and  again  and  again  he  cursed  that  fine  and 
subtle  sense  which  gave  him  so  much  and  yet  gave  him  no 
more. 

There  was  no  need  for  General  Vayne  to  tighten  his 
grasp  upon  the  detected  impostor's  arm.  The  man  was 
incapable  of  flight.  He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  the  table 
for  support,  or  he  might  have  fallen.  He  was  white  and 
shivering,  his  breath  was  failing.  The  faces  bent  upon 
him,  each  expressive  of  a  righteous  aloofness,  seemed  reel 
ing  fantastically  about  the  room.  And  he  looked  at 
them,  as  they  went  in  that  giddy  whirl,  with  a  piteous 
deprecation  of  which  he  was  unconscious.  The  group 
stood  motionless,  silent,  watching  him  askance  as  if  every 
human  feeling  and  endowment  were  merged  in  that  coldly 
accusing  gaze. 

Marcia  never  knew  how  it  happened ;  her  heart  was 
suddenly  all  pierced  with  compassion ;  the  sympathetic 
tears  sprang  into  her  eyes.  The  most  potent  instinct  of  her 
nature — to  help,  to  comfort  — was  strongly  constraining  her 
She  made  no  question.  She  had  no  thought  of  the  others, 
or  of  what  they  would  think  of  her.  She  found  herself  put 
ting  a  glass  of  wine  into  his  trembling  hand.  •'  Drink  it," 
she  said,  "  you  are  faint.  Oh,  papa,  papa,  can't  you  even 
give  him  a  chair  in  your  own  house  !  " 

It  broke  the  spell.  There  was  a  change  of  attitude  in 
the  circle,  a  breath  of  relief.  He  turned  toward  her  with 
the  glass  untasted  in  his  hand. 

"  I  cannot  thank  you,"  he  said  brokenly.  "  I  am  not 
worthy  to  speak  a  word  to  you.  You  don't  know  me,  or 
you  could  n't  pity  me.  I  am  too  low  for  pity." 

Her  eyes  were  filling  again,  but  she  replied  with  pro 
saic  little  words,  "You  will  be  better  after  this." 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  413 

"  Yes,"  he  said  slowly,  looking  hard  at  her,  "  I  will  be 
better  after  this ;  I  promise  you  that." 

He  placed  the  brimming  glass  upon  the  table.  Once  he 
had  been  a  gentleman.  Even  now,  far  down  as  he  had 
sunk,  he  could  not  drink  wine  in  the  house  of  a  man  who 
gazed  at  him  with  stern,  condemning  eyes. 

"You  understand  it  now,"  he  said,  addressing  Est- 
wicke.  "It  was  a  conspiracy  to  obtain  money.  The 
imposture  was  part  of  the  scheme." 

"  How  did  you  dare  —  ?"  Estwicke  began  angrily. 

"  It.  was  no  question  of  courage.  Nothing  was  easier. 
I  had  known  that  man  —  John  Fortescue  —  all  my  life. 
He  had  not  been  in  New  Orleans  in  thirty  years  before 
my  little  game.  I  had  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  the 
last  of  his  family.  I  had  heard  him  say,  a  thousand 
times,  he  had  no  near  relatives.  He  used  to  complain 
that  there  was  not  a  soul  upon  earth  to  care  if  he  were 
living  or  dead.  The  last  ten  years  of  his  life  we  spent 
abroad  together.  We  came  back  on  account  of  the  war. 
We  took  part  in  a  few  skirmishes,  but  in  his  first  battle 
he  was  killed ;  the  report  said,  '  missing.'  I  was  cap 
tured,  and  remained  in  prison  till  the  surrender,  when  I 
went  at  once  to  France.  These  circumstances  came  to 
serve  my  turn  afterward.  We  were  on  the  staff  of  Gen 
eral  Crespeau,  who  was  killed  on  the  same  day.  There 
,vere  not  ten  men  who  knew  us  well  enough,  during  the 
short  time  we  were  together  in  the  army,  to  have  recog 
nized  either  Fortescue  or  me  a  year  afterward.  Every 
thing  played  into  my  hand,  you  see.  I  knew  him  thor 
oughly,  through  and  through.  I  could  imitate  his  voice, 
and  gesture,  and  manner,  without  a  chance  of  detection. 
I  have  a  knack  at  that  kind  of  thing.  A  casual  resem 
blance  in  height  and  build  and  complexion  helped  to 
trniry  it  off.  I  passed  easily  enough  as  John  Fortescue 

\ 


4:11  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

among   men  who   had   not   seen   him  for  twenty  odd 
years." 

He  recited  this  in  a  hard  voice  and  an  off-hand  manner ; 
he  had  mustered  his  effrontery  to  face  it  out;  General 
Vayne's  grasp  was  relaxing,  for  his  attention  had  concen 
trated  itself  upon  a  phase  of  the  story  which  touched 
him  nearly. 

"Captain  Estwicke, — if  that  is  your  name,"  he  said 
severely,  "I  think  I  am  justified  in  demanding  an  ex 
planation  from  you." 

Estwicke  turned,  with  sudden  color  flaring  in  his  face, 
and  his  eyes  flashing.  His  quick  intuition  had  met  Gen 
eral  Vayne's  covert  suspicion,  and  he  was  tremulous  with 
the  shock  of  the  collision. 

"  You  shall  have  it ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  My  name  — 
John  Fortescue  —  was  changed  by  law.  When  my 
mother  died,  within  a  year  after  her  marriage,  it  became 
the  scheme  of  my  grandfather,  Judge  Estwicke,  to  effect 
a  separation,  permanent  and  complete,  between  my  father 
and  me,  so  that  I  might  grow  up  to  be  '  correct,'  like  the 
Estwickes.  A  promise  was  obtained  from  my  father 
never  to  interfere  with  me ;  never  to  see  me ;  to  keep  his 
distance ;  because  he  was  no  fit  custodian  and  exemplar 
for  his  own  son.  All  the  long  heads  of  the  family  were 
put  together,  to  make  out  a  showing  that  might  rid  me 
even  of  his  too  notorious  name ;  for  his  extravagant  es 
capades,  and  gaming  ventures,  and  wild  courses  had  ren 
dered  the  very  words  a  stumbling-block  and  an  offence  to 
good  men,  like  the  Estwickes.  My  father's  consent  was 
forthcoming  when  Judge  Estwicke  pledged  himself  to 
make  the  change  of  name  advance  my  pecuniary  inter 
ests.  And  so  it  was  done.  The  connection  was  cut  like 
a  thread.  He  left  me  forever,  because  I  was  little,  and 
troublesome,  and  expensive  —  so  the  Estwickes  after 
wards  gave  me  to  understand." 


WHERE   THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  415 

It  was  all  beginning  to  be  plain  enough  to  Edward 
Lveevor.  He  listened  with  as  intent  an  interest  to  the 
points  touching  upon  his  imposture,  as  if  he  could  still 
serve  a  purpose  by  comparing  the  facts  to  the  ingenious 
status  which  he  had  constructed  and  fitted  to  those  cir 
cumstances  that  he  had  believed  constituted  an  exhaustive 
knowledge  of  his  friend's  life.  So  the  roystering  John 
Fortescue  had  had  a  hid  den  heart-history,  with  some  cruel 
suggestions  in  it,  which  he  buried  under  years  of  revelry, 
and  from  which  he  separated  himself  by  leagues  of  water 
and  foreign  lands.  It  was  not  strange  that  so  proud  a 
man  should  never  have  spoken  to  his  boon  companion  of 
his  dead  wife,  and  her  "  correct "  relatives,  who  held 
themselves  better  than  he.  But  there  was  something 
curiously  uncharacteristic  in  this  voluntary  alienation 
from  his  child,  —  he,  so  generous  and  hot-blooded,  with 
his  deep  feelings  and  enthusiastic  attachments.  And  the 
son,  so  like  his  father,  was  strangely  unlike  in  this  criti 
cal,  censorious  attitude. 

The  fire  was  dying  out  of  Estwicke's  eyes ;  he  seemed 
dallying  with  some  resolve.  Twice  he  checked  himself 
as  he  was  about  to  speak,  but  his  desire  suddenly  pulled 
away  from  his  control  and  he  broke  forth  impetuously, 
the  tragedy  of  his  feelings  expressed,  incongruously 
enough,  in  the  hap-hazard  phrasings  of  the  day. 

"  I  can't  talk  about  this  thing  —  it  kills  me !  I  thought 
I  had  no  part  in  it.  But  it  was  settled  at  last  by  my 
own  choice ;  and  I  never  knew  I  had  a  choice  to  make. 
And  he  is  dead.  And  I  am  here.  He  can  never  under- 
stand.  It  will  always  seem  that  I  went  back  on  him.  I 
thought  he  had  thrown  me  off ;  and  it  was  all  the  other 
Way,  for  they  would  never  let  me  know.  He  had  stipu 
lated  —  he  had  stood  firmly  on  that  —  he  had  stipulated 
that  if  ever  my  heart  should  turn  to  him,  they  must  let 


416  WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOUGHT. 

me  go.  He  looked  for  it,  he  said,  for  blood  is  thicker 
than  water.  And  my  heart  did  turn  to  him.  He  was 
my  father;  as  I  grew  older,  1  wanted  to  know  him  —  to 
be  with  him.  1  did  n't  care  if  he  did  live  as  all  gamblers 
live  —  like  a  prince  one  day,  and  a  beggar  the  next.  1 
did  n't  care  if  he  had  left  his  reputation  in  every  city  on 
this  continent !  That 's  the  account  the  Estwickes  gave 
of  him.  And  when  I  declared  I  would  go  to  him,  they 
made  me  think  —  for  they  would  not  tell  me  otherwise  — 
that  he  cared  nothing  for  me  ;  that  in  all  these  years  he 
had  fshown  no  interest  in  me,  —  never  a  line,  or  word,  or 
sign.  It  was  sharp ;  it  cut  me.  And  that  idea  that  he 
had  given  me  away  because  I  was  so  little,  and  trouble 
some,  and  expensive  —  I  could  n't  forgive  him  for  that." 

He  paused  for  an  instant  and  laughed  sarcastically. 

"  Well,  I  cherished  that  idea,  and  after  a  time  it  pos 
sessed  me.  Only  once  it  let  go  —  only  once,  for  a  little 
while.  It  was  just  before  this  battle," —  he  made  a  ges 
ture  toward  the  black  plain  without.  "  I  was  aghast  one 
day  to  realize  that  now  and  here  I  was  nearer  to  him  than 
ever  before.  I  used  to  climb  up  on  the  parapet  of  Fort 
Despair  at  night,  and  watch  the  rebels'  camp  fires,  and 
wonder  which  might  be  his,  and  whether  he  knew  that  I 
was  here,  and  a  terrible  fear  of  meeting  him  as  a  stranger 
and  an  enemy  laid  hold  upon  me.  A  flag  of  truce  went 
out  one  day  and  I  wrote  to  him,  and  when  the  letter  was 
finished  I  thought  it  all  over  again,  and  that  idea  that  he 
had  given  me  away  lightly  —  lightly  —  as  if  I  had  been  a 
choice  puppy,  beset  me  once  more.  It  was  too  much  like 
a  choice  puppy  to  go  fawning  around  now  without  a  word 
of  encouragement.  So  I  flung  the  letter  into  the  fire.  If 
I  had  stood  up  for  him,  if  I  had  believed  in  him  against 
all  the  world  as  I  was  bound  —  bound  by  every  instinct  of 
my  blood  to  do,  that  letter  would  have  reached  him  th« 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE  WAS   FOTJ3HT.  417 

day  before  he  was  killed.  We  should  have  understood 
each  other  then.  He  would  have  read  it  here  where  the 
battle  was  fought." 

With  an  agitated  gesture,  as  if  he  would  clasp  his  mis 
sing  right  hand,  General  Vayne  sought  to  interpose  a 
word  of  deprecation.  "  Let  me  beg  of  you  —  say  no 
more,  my  dear  sir." 

But  Estwicke  hastily  interrupted. 

"  I  saw  him  at  last ! "  he  cried,  bitterly.  "  Oh,  yes,  I 
saw  him  at  last.  It  was  after  an  assault  on  Fort  Despair, 
one  of  many  attacks  that  day.  They  had  charged  again 
and  again,  with  picked  men.  When  it  was  all  over  I  saw 
him  lying  on  the  ground  —  dead  —  dead!  I  knew  him 
by  my  own  likeness  to  him  —  by  my  repudiated  sonship. 
It  was  as  a  prevision  of  my  own  end  —  it  was  like  looking 
on  my  own  dead  face.  It 's  a  fine  thing  —  oh,  I  tell  you 
it 's  a  fine  thing  for  a  man's  conscience  to  acquit  him  of 
the  crime  of  parricide  on  the  plea  of  a  lucky  accident, — to 
have  to  thank  a  gracious  God  that  a  minie  ball  from  the 
infantry  was  charged  with  his  father's  death  rather  than 
the  shells  which  were  bursting  everywhere  from  his  own 
battery." 

He  leaned  against  the  window-frame,  and  turned  hia 
eyes  out  upon  the  night.  The  fire-flies  flickered.  A  bird 
sang.  Far,  far  to  the  vague  horizon  stretched  the  stern, 
savage  old  battle-field,  indelibly  marked  with  its  own  irre 
vocable  history  —  the  seal  of  woe  set  upon  the  country. 
And  still,  even  in  the  haunted  thickets,  the  very  out 
growth  of  carnage,  the  bird  sang,  the  fire-flies  flickered. 

After  a  moment  he  recommenced  scornfully.  "I  sup 
pose  it  was  in  the  joint  character  of  a  victorious  plunderer 
and  an  heir-at-law  that  I  felt  myself  privileged  to  ransack 
John  Fortescue's  belongings  in  the  captured  train.  And 
I  found  among  them  an  old  budget  of  letters  from  my 


418  WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

grandfather  and  uncles,  evidently  carefully  treasured, 
friendly,  delightfully  cordial  letters,  teeming  with  bits  of 
news  about  me,  —  my  health,  my  talents,  my  progress  at 
school,  as  if  these  trifles  were  of  deep  interest  to  him. 
Now  and  then  there  was  an  allusion,  in  response  to  let 
ters  of  his  own,  to  those  objectionable  habits  which  used 
to  grind  the  rigid  and  intolerant  Judge  Estwicke  when 
John  Fortescue  was  brought  near  to  him  as  his  daughter's 
husband,  —  invariably  it  was  couched,  not  as  one  might 
speak  to  a  coldly  depraved  man,  but  to  a  noble  creature 
with  fantastic  generosities  of  character,  and  elastic  im 
pulses  that  carried  him  away,  and  sometimes  astray.  And 
these  letters  made  a  mystery  —  they  began  to  poison  my 
life.  At  last  I  wrote  to  my  grandfather  demanding  the 
full  correspondence  that  had  gone  on  over  my  head  while 
I  knew  nothing  of  it.  And  then  I  discovered  that,  from 
the  first,  my  father's  heart  went  out  to  me ;  that  he  kept 
himself  posted,  and  was  familiar  with  every  detail  of  my 
life ;  that  he  consented  to  this  c  cruel  separation '  only  for 
my  good,  as  he  thought ;  that  he  relied  implicitly  on 
Judge  Estwicke,  and  revered  his  'great  sagacity,'  and 
humbly  submitted  his  own  judgment ;  that  he  was  hard 
on  his  own  faults,  and  was  always  trying  to  reform,  on  my 
account ;  that  he  patiently  awaited  and  expected  some 
sign  from  me,  when  the  agreement  would  be  broken  and 
he  could  take  me  back ;  that  the  years  brought  him  only 
disappointment,  and  he  bore  it  meekly,  and  said  he  de 
served  nothing,  and  that  I  was  doubtless  far  better  off, 
growing  up  'steady,'  with  studious  habits,  and  among 
such  good  influences.  And  I  thought  he  never  wrote. 
And  he  thought  his  own  son  never  cared.  And  the  end 
was  that  we  met  here,  where  the  battle  was  fought,  when 
he  had  lain  down  with  his  tragic,  empty  heart,  and  did 
apt  rise  again." 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  419 

He  paused.     His  voice  was  faltering. 

"  I  cannot  sufficiently  regret,"  said  General  Vayne,  with 
grave  constraint,  "that  I  forced  this  explanation  upon 
you." 

Estwicke  turned  sharply. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  have  told  you ! "  he  exclaimed. 
u  I  am  misleading  you  !  I  am  misrepresenting  the  good 
man  who  did  everything  for  me  —  who  had  no  motives 
but  his  self-sacrificing  interest  in  my  welfare,  and  his  fear 
that  my  father's  influence  and  example  would  ruin  me.  I 
was  a  burden  —  a  dead  weight  from  first  to  last.  My 
grandfather  in  his  old  age  worked  early  and  late,  and  took 
from  his  dutiful  sons  to  give  to  me,  for  my  mother's  share 
of  his  little  property  had  been  advanced  during  her  mar 
ried  life,  and  had  slipped  through  John  Fortescue's  hands 
at  the  card-table.  And  here,  in  the  presence  of  these  peo 
ple  who  never  knew  Judge  Estwicke,  I  am  maligning  him 
and  holding  him  up  as  cruel,  and  treacherous,  and  hard, 
when  the  only  sin  of  his  long  life  —  if  it  were  a  sin  —  was 
to  save  me.  Don't  you  see  what  a  traitor  I  am  ?  Don't 
you  see  I  can't  justify  myself  without  aspersing  him.  I 
went  back  on  my  father,  or  if  I  try  to  persuade  myself 
that  I  did  not,  I  go  back  on  the  man  who  deprived  his 
own  children  to  give  to  me.  Do  you  wonder  that  I  don't 
talk  of  these  things  —  that  I  can  hardly  bring  myself  even 
to  think  of  the  chaotic  sarcasm  of  John  Fortescue's  fate. 
The  most  honorable  man  that  ever  lived  systematically 
deceived  him.  '  The  best  friend  a  man  ever  had,' "  —  he 
quoted  the  words  with  a  sneer,  —  "  has  robbed  him  of  his 
identity,  and  is  masquerading  around  the  world  with  his 
name.  And  here  is  his  own  son,  masquerading  around  the 
world  —  without  it ! " 

He  laughed  harshly  as  he  turned  away.  He  was  resolv 
ing  to  say  no  more.  He  wondered  now  that  he  had 


420  WHEHE  THE   BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

spoken  at  all,  except  to  give  the  curt  explanation  required, 
Why  should  he  have  bared  his  heart  with  all  its  long, 
rankling  wounds,  for  these  strangers  to  gaze  upon. 

He  scarcely  listened  as  Keevor  addressed  him.  The 
man,  panoplied  in  vice  though  he  was,  had  yet  one  vul 
nerable  point.  He  had  been  honestly  fond  of  his  friend. 
Even  after  so  many  years  the  feeling  hampered  his  impos 
ture,  it  stirred  unaccustomed  chords  of  remorse  and  re 
pentance,  it  hung  round  him  with  strange  superstitions, 
at  last  it  betrayed  him. 

There  was  genuine  emotion  in  his  voice  and  an  eager 
appeal  in  his  manner.  "  I  can't  attempt  any  extenuation," 
he  said.  "  There  is  none  to  make.  But  at  first  it  did  not 
seem  the  gross  sacrilege  that  it  does  now.  It  was  rather 
a  relapse  into  an  old  habit.  I  had  often  imitated  him  to 
his  face.  He  used  to  laugh.  He  thought  it  was  clever. 
The  realization  of  what  I  have  been  doing  only  came  upon 
me  by  degrees.  And  I  was  kept  in  ignorance  of  what  a 
swindling  job  it  is  until  I  had  been  plunged  deep  into  it." 

Estwicke  made  no  answer  and  not  a  sign  of  attention 
until  Keevor  was  about  to  recommence,  when  he  raised 
his  hand  with  a  gesture  of  contemptuous  expostulation, 
stepped  out  of  the  window,  and  walked  off  down  the  por 
tico. 

As  Keevor  turned  away,  crushed  and  cowed,  his  eye  fell 
upon  Miss  St.  Pierre.  She  was  still  standing  beside  the 
table,  and  still  turning  his  card  nervously  in  her  hands. 
The  sight  of  her  suggested  the  reflection  that  now  she 
would  hold  her  property  secure  —  after  his  father's  death 
the  law  allowed  Estwicke  only  three  years  from  January, 
1867,  in  which  to  bring  suit,  but  he  had  evidently  been  in 
ignorance  of  his  rights,  and  by  the  lapse  of  the  prescribed 
term  the  remedy  was  barred  forever.  So  thoroughly  had 
the  impostor  identified  himself  with  the  part  that  he  had 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT.  421 

played,  that  with  a  strange  doubleness  he  experienced  a 
vicarious  disappointment  because  at  last  the  Fortescue 
heir  would  receive  nothing. 

And  it  was  Maurice  Brennett  who  would  profit  by  this ! 
He  would  marry  her;  he  would  gain  the  fortune  he  cov 
eted,  and  around  which  he  had  woven  the  fine  web  of  his 
schemes.  "^Wlth  sudden  anger  in  his  face  and  voice,  Kee- 
vor  spoke  to  her,  resolved  to  frustrate  Brennett  yet,  if  it 
were  possible. 

"  I  was  not  the  originator  of  the  plot  to  rob  you,"  he 
said.  "  It  was  a  device  of  Maurice  Brennett's ;  I  acted 
under  his  instructions  throughout.  I  came  here  to  tell 
you  that,  to  warn  you  how  you  place  confidence  in  him. 
I  can  give  you  proofs  of  what  I  say ;  I  can  put  papers  into 
your  hands.  It  was  a  conspiracy  to  obtain  money." 

She  was  pale  and  agitated,  and  a  little  frightened.  "  I 
suspected  that  all  the  time,"  she  said  simply. 

She  could  not  analyze  the  look  he  bent  upon  her.  A 
pang  shot  through  his  heart.  He  had  for  his  fancied 
wrongs  causelessly  ruined  Brennett;  he  had  defeated 
the  scheme  in  which  they  had  both  lavished  a  world  of 
ingenuity ;  arid  he  had  indeed  given  himself  away.  "  A 
friend  of  Horace  Percy's,"  the  countryman  had  said,  and 
he  must  infer  no  friend  save  one.  He  stood  silent,  feeling 
thwarted  and  beaten  and  bruised. 

She  had  seemed  on  the  point  of  speaking  again.  But  at 
tirst  she  was  only  conscious  of  a  painful  bewilderment,  of 
mentally  fumbling  for  something  she  greatly  desired  to  say. 
Then  she  realized  that  she  was  no  longer  at  the  mercy  of 
that  dastardly  lie  with  which  Brennett  had  threatened  her 

"  If  you  will  prove  his  complicity,"  she  cried  impetu 
ously,  "if  you  will  give  testimony  that  will  convict  that 
man,  you  shall  go  free!  I  will  fix  it  upon  him!  I  will 
pursue  him  to  the  ends  of  the  earth !  " 


422  WHERE   THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOUGHT. 

She  became  suddenly  aware  that  the  others  wt-re  gazing 
at  her  with  astonished  eyes  —  she  hastily  averted  her  own. 
As  she  turned  slightly  she  caught  sight  of  a  great,  SAvift  light 
that  had  sprung  up  on  the  horizon.  It  incomprehensibly 
paused  for  a  moment,  but  she  gave  it  no  heed.  Then  it 
glided  on  as  before.  It  was  the  head-light  of  the  up-train 
for  Marston.  Her  caution  had  held  her  anger  and  revenge 
in  leash  too  long.  At  that  instant  Maurice  Brennett  had 
signalled  the  train,  and  now  it  was  bearing  him  far  away 
into  the  darkness.  The  thorough  search  made  for  him 
afterward  was  futile. 

Keevor  received  with  stolid  composure  the  promise  of 
immunity  for  which  he  had  hardly  dared  to  hope.  "  I 
shall  wait  in  Chattalla  until  I  hear  from  you.  If  I  am 
permitted,"  he  turned  to  General  Vayne,  "  I  shall  go." 

He  bowed  at  the  door  with  courtesy  as  elaborate  as  if 
he  were  an  honored  guest  taking  leave.  He  went  out 
from  the  dim  hall  into  the  moonlight.  The  wind  was 
high,  and  the  haunted  thickets  tossed  in  wild  commotion. 
A  great  wave  of  martial  music  rolled  over  the  plain.  It 
broke  into  weird  shouts  and  cries,  and  the  earth  shook 
with  a  strong  tremor.  The  outline  of  Fort  Despair  de 
fined  itself  aggressively  against  the  western  horizon.  The 
gusts  passed,  the  sounds  fainted,  his  foot-fall  was  dying  in 
the  distance.  And  then,  Estwicke,  still  standing  on  the 
portico,  could  hear  only  the  tumultuous  beating  of  his 
own  passionate  heart,  which  had  wrought  with  its  exact 
ing  sensitiveness  such  cruel  havoc  in  its  lot.  He  did  not 
see  that .  the  light  curtains  were  suddenly  a-flutter,  and  a 
girl's  slender  white-robed  figure  glided  out.  But  under 
the  touch  of  her  hand  upon  his  arm  his  whole  nature  soft 
ened  like  the  rock  that  the  prophet  smote.  He  looked 
down  at  her  through  gathering  tears  that  came  few  and 
painfully  and  stood  burning  in  his  eyes  and  did  not  fall. 


WHERE  THE  BATTLE   WAS   FOCGHT.  423 

"  You  see  what  you  have  escaped,  Marcia,"  he  said 
gently.  "I  am  a  man  whom  no  woman  might  safely 
trust" — she  lifted  her  face,  eloquent  with  an  indignant 
protest  — "  a  recreant  to  natural  affection.  There  are  not 
many  such.  I  am  a  man  whose  life  must  be  made  up  of 
remorse  and  self-reproach,  his  best  alternation  a  callous 
forge  tfulness." 

"  I  ask  no  greater  happiness  than  to  share  his  life,"  she 
declared  suddenly. 

He  turned  and  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  only  take  the  great  joy  and  comfort 
that  you  are  to  me,  without  grudging  it  for  his  sake,  re 
membering  what  his  life  was,  and  what  I  helped  to  make 
it.  If  he  could  only  know  how  it  all  happened,  and  how 
I  feel,  and  " — 

"  He  must  —  he  does !  "  she  cried  solemnly,  like  one 
inspired. 

Estwicke  looked  hard  at  her.  Light  opaline  clouds 
were  sweeping  across  the  sky ;  pallid  mists  shifted  about 
the  battle-field  and  caught  the  glimmer  of  the  moon,  and 
through  its  mystery  and  through  its  glamour  her  face 
shone  as  the  face  of  an  angel. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  he  asked,  his  credulity  half- 
constrained  by  the  force  of  her  conviction. 

"  Oh,  God  is  so  good !  "  she  exclaimed. 

He  slipped  her  hand  through  his  arm,  and  together  thej 
turned  toward  the  east  and  the  future. 


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